Chuckie The Homicidal Maniac
by Sideos
Summary: Does exactly what it says on the tin. Chuckie starts hearing a voice offering him the chance to take revenge on those that scorn him for his differences. However this offer comes with a heavy price and is backed by something old...and evil.
1. Just A Friend

Reader Recommendation (Jesus.Lives)

I shouldn't have been so suprised... a goth Chuckie? Who would have thunk it?  
But this story **works**. It not only works, but has me asking for more.

The characters are set in their mid/late teens.

If anyone wants to do art on this - which would be mega-cool... get in contact with Invader Sideos.

I recommend this story to everyone, it'll bring out your dark side. Plus it's T/K, if anyone likes the pairing.  


AUTHOR NOTE:  
I'm gonna say now, THIS IS GONNA BE DARK AND NASTY. Much like a G.G. Allin song. Swearing, self-harm, insanity, killings and bloodshed people! But no sex. Anyways now I've lost all my audience I can continue as planned.

This fic will be borrowing heavily from a little comic known as Johnny the Homicidal Maniac. This is somewhat a crossover of sorts (except none of the characters from Johnny the Homicidal Maniac will show up, I'm just stealing all it's ideas) but it will still be made so those that have never seen the comic can understand what's going on.

So, anything like this _'please review!'_ is thought. Anything like this _"Hope you enjoy" _is voices. Notice the difference in commers.

Written to…humm…System of a Down – Aerials, DRAGONFORCE (So epic and amazing), and random other things.

All characters from Rugrats belong to Nick; all references to JTHM belong to Jhonen 'Boss of Satan' Vasquez.  
I own Gogol.  
--------------------

Chuckie stood out like a sore thumb. While the others sitting on the Hi-Skool cafeteria table all dressed in normal clothes, baggy jeans and skater-come-punk shirts, Chuckie wore black.

Black pants and a black and white striped shirt that fell longer on the front and back like the ends of a waiter's jacket. On his feet he wore a pair of huge, knee length boots which each had three large clips holding them tight onto Chuckie's legs. The toes of these boots where shaped like a pair of metal hooves.

His hair was still the mess of red that it had always been, and he still wore a pair of thick rimmed glasses over his eyes. The boy was at the ripe old age of seventeen and he had become a tall, skinny teenager. He was the tallest out of all his friends, and combined with the way he dressed, the easily the odd one out. Except for when he was compared to Dil, but Dil was in his own special category.

Chuckie took another bite of his burger and looked at the others on the table.

Tommy, his best friend, sat next to him, or more accurately, sat closest to him.

Tommy had hardly changed in the last five years; he had only grown taller and had aged into a slim young teenager with several Indy films under his belt. He wore his usual sneakers, blue baggy jeans and blue and white top. His purple hair was neatly cut and a short chain came from his waist, on which a screwdriver key chain could be seen.

To his left, and sitting on the end of the table, was his girlfriend and Chuckie's sister, Kimi. Kimi wore her usual yellow t-shirt with a pink top over it. She had a green skirt and a pair of brown, fluffy boots. Her longish purple hair was held back in a ponytail. She giggled at one of Tommy's jokes and leaned slightly closer to him.

Chuckie scowled and looked into his burger; he hated the uber mushy shows of public affection.

He looked up again to across the table to where the twins, Phil and Lil sat chatting with Tommy and Kimi. They too had grown taller as they entered true teenager-dom. Phil was a regular looking kid with a green t-shirt covered by an open orange shirt. He wore blue baggy jeans and regular sneakers. His brown hair was at ear length and was rather messy through lack of combing, but now he had pushed it back away from his face.

Lil wore a pink t-shirt with some sport logo printed across it and a pair of brown pants with a pair of sneakers. Her wavy brown hair fell over her shoulders and there was a dyed red streak going across one eye, which she brushed away.

Dil wasn't around yet, which slightly disappointed Chuckie as the younger boy was one of the only people who would talk to him without care for who was looking.

It seemed that since his conversion to wearing 'goth' clothing a year ago, the others (excluding Dil, Tommy and his sister) had collectively agreed to leave him out of most of their activities. That was fine by Chuckie, who had grown out of going to malls and trying to constantly fit in.

Still, having only three talking friends was lonely, especially since one of them was his step-sister. He found that he spent much more time indoors then usual and was alone more often. He often combated this by reading books and graphic novels; he had found their company usually more enjoyable then real people.

"Weirdo!" Chuckie looked up slightly as the insult was shouted from halfway across the cafeteria. Some of the others on the table glanced up but soon went back to their mindless talk. Chuckie sighed at the prospect of once again spending a lunch break talking to no-one.

He got up off his seat, taking his, typically black, backpack onto his left shoulder and silently walked away. He knew the others wouldn't miss him; they were too busy ignoring his existence to notice his leaving.

_"Screw em" _said a tiny voice in the back of his mind, _"You don't need those normality-obsessed losers." _  
_  
'Yea,'_ He thought back, _'But it's still nice to have friends.' _

The voice answered back, slightly surprising Chuckie, _"Friends are overrated, especially the ones you've got."  
_  
Chuckie frowned. Usually his internal conversations could be edited for words he wanted to hear, but this was different. It came on when he didn't ask it to; he spoke what he didn't really want to hear and even sounded slightly weird... not the usual echo of his own voice but...different.

It still sounded like his own; but as if he was confident, fearless, even slightly mocking. Nothing like the usual timid, shy, quiet Chuckie.

It had been popping up in his mind lately. At first he just though it was his own self pity, but it had slowly began speaking more and more, even in situations that didn't call for it. It had been like that for most of the week, whispering ideas about attacking gym teachers with baseball bats and such.

Suddenly he felt a leg knocking against his boots and before he could stop himself he fell flat onto his face.

The cafeteria erupted with laughter as the boy rolled over to see what, or who was the reason for his sudden fall.

He looked up to see the ugly laughing face of Torque Smacky, the head jock of the school and boyfriend to one of the most bossy, snide and evil people Chuckie had ever known.

Angelica laughed beside him. She had been dating the ugly school quarterback for half a year and the reason was plainly obvious. It was not because she liked him; it was because it secured her position as one of the popular kids.

She could also use his low intelligence and brute strength to her advantage and make sure that no one ever said a bad thing about her. She had dropped the old gang like a worn out paper bag as soon as she had set up this deal.

Chuckie hated her for it, somewhat more then the others. While they resented the fact that she had dumped them all, Chuckie resented the fact that she had done it purely out of greed for power. If there was one thing that truly got to him, it was people like Angelica.

Her boyfriend and the rest of the popular kids stopped laughing to smile cruelly down at him.

"Watch where you're going, freak." The boy said before breaking out into a stupid sounding laughter.

Chuckie picked himself up glaring at them all the time but inside he knew he could do nothing about it. If he did say or try anything they would kick the life out of him and probably come back for seconds.

Which is why he looked to the table his friends where at. He looked at Phil then to Lil who both suddenly found their shoes suddenly rather interesting.

He scowled; he didn't really expect them to help anyway. He turned to Tommy, one who he counted as an ally. Tommy looked at him then looked to Kimi. Chuckie turned to her as well. She looked back and forth between her boyfriend and her brother before simply gripping Tommy tighter.

Chuckie's face fell, his best friend and his own step-sister, his two closest allies were refusing to help him. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched in anger. He picked up his backpack, and, humiliatingly, he turned and walked off. He could still hear their laughter even as he walked down the corridor.

It stung him. This happened so much it gone past the point of expected punishment for being different. This was a constant day-in day-out abuse, even outside of Hi-School he got name calls and weird looks from the people he walked past. All because he dressed in dark clothes. And now, now even Kimi was turning away from him. His head lowered and his scowl grew.

_"Its amazing how much image affects things,"_ Whispered the tiny voice into his ear, _"Take these people for example. On the surface they all look like regular working humans, yet scratch the surface and you find a writhing mass of shit that makes up their minds. These people don't deserve to live, you should do something about that you know." _

Chuckie suddenly felt alarmed, that was so unexpected and so odd that it scared him. He quickly darted into the boys toilets. He ran up to a mirror and looked into his own reflection.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward, "What are you?"  
_"Just a friend,"_ and, for a split second he could almost see it, but it vanished and Chuckie knew it was gone.

He ran a cold water tap and splashed his face. He sighed in relief as the cool water eased his shaken nerves. He then looked up at his reflection again and smiled wearily,_ 'Chuckie, you're cracking up. Next thing you know you'll be going psycho.' _  
He laughed and walked out of the toilets.

----

Chuckie sat in his room reading a bad vampire novel. He was only halfway through the third chapter and he was already bored with it. His room was a mass of dark and spooky looking things that he had adorned it with. Posters of all sorts of heavy metal and goth bands hung from his walls. In one corner stood an old dresser which had broken on one of the mirrors. Chuckie had begged his Dad and step-mom to keep it, why he wanted to was a mystery to them but they agreed. It was now covered with fake webbing and was home to many of Chuckie's dark trinkets that he had amassed.

There was a knock at the door, Chuckie ignored it.

Kimi's voice floated through it, "Chuckie...Chuckie can I come in?"

Chuckie turned away from the door, ignoring the pleading sorrow in her voice. He still refused to say anything. He hadn't said a thing to her since the lunch hall incident. When they had came in from Hi-School he had pushed past her and spent all his time in his room, only coming down to eat dinner quickly then go back upstairs.

Kimi waited for a moment before her voice again came quietly though the door. "Chuckie, I'm coming in."  
The door clicked open as she poked her head in, Chuckie refused to look at her. He listened to her sigh and walk in, closing the door behind her. By the sound of it, she was carrying a bag with her.

He sat up and put down the novel, but still he did not look at her. He felt the weight on his bed shift as she sat down and the rustle of her setting the bag beside her. There was an awkward silence as Chuckie waited for his step-sister to say something.

Finally she said, "Why do you love all this goth stuff so much? You used to be scared to death of these things."

Chuckie suppressed a laugh and looked around his room. She was right, he did used to be scared witless at this stuff. But somewhere, something changed. He learned that despite all the times he had been scared, inside, deep inside, he loved it. He loved the rush of adrenalin fear could give him, he loved the sense of danger the unknown radiated, he loved the shiver along his spine and the way the darkness embraced everything.

But she could never understand that.

"I dunno...I just do." He answered slowly. There was another awkward silence before he spoke again. This time much more harshly. "Why didn't you do anything at Hi-School?"

"Chuckie..." She sighed. "I...I..."

"Was too wrapped up in Tommy's arms? Too afraid of Angelica? To scared to be seen helping the spooky kid?"

She turned around swiftly, anger reflecting in her eyes. "No! You know that's not it at all."

Chuckie lay back onto his bed, placing his hands behind his head and letting one food dangle over the side. He gave Kimi a hard stare, "Then what?"

She looked away, ashamed to meet his gaze. "Look," She looked back to him, "You know there was nothing I could have done anyway."

Chuckie looked away. He didn't want to admit that she was right, it wasn't often she was wrong. She smiled slightly as she knew he had realized this.

"Look, I bought you this as an apology." Chuckie watched as she reached the bag and brought out a small black plush. It looked like a cat but it had narrow red eyes, very pointy ears and little other features. It looked rather spooky and Chuckie already liked it.

She smiled and placed it on his stomach, "I know how you love things like this. So? Are we OK now?"

Chuckie smiled and sat up, giving Kimi a brotherly hug, "Yea, we're OK. Thanks."

She let go of her step-brother and stood up, "Good. Cya laters Chuck," And she walked out the room.

Chuckie looked down at the cat-thing, staring into the blood red eyes. He lifted up to eye-level and raised an eyebrow, "What should I call you?"

Something in the back of his mind quietly said, _"Gogol."_

Chuckie widened his eyes in amusement at the unusual name before shrugging and placing it on his beside desk. "Gogol it is."

As he buried his head back into his book he missed the eyes on the cat-thing glow before growing lifeless once more.

--

Chuckie lay on the bed fast asleep, dressed only in his boxers with chapter seven of the book open on his face. He had fallen asleep roughly around midnight. Outside there was a slight wind. An owl hooted somewhere and the sound of a car driving past could be heard.

_"Wake up Chuckie." _

Chuckie's eyes flickered open_, "Whu…what?"_

He sleepily removed the book from his face while also lifting himself up from his lying position. He could have sworn something had talked to him. But he couldn't tell if it was in his dreams or in real life.

He rubbed his eyes and ran and hand through his messy hair. "Man…what time is it?"

_"Its half three in the morning." _Replied a slightly mocking, dark voice.

Chuckie jumped up in surprise and looked about rapidly. "Who…who said that? Is someone there?"

_"Nope. No one's here, only you."_ Chuckie jumped again, but this time he knew where the voice was coming from. He looked, shocked and scared, at Gogol.

The little cat-plush was totally lifeless but Chuckie was sure that it was where the voice was coming from.

It took a moment for the boy to gather the words in his mouth. "You…you talk?"

_"Well,"_ It stated matter-of-factly, _"Not really. I mean, at the moment you're still talking to yourself. I just moved out of your head. I woke you up just to make sure you know that. I didn't want to tell you in the morning and spoil it because I know you're not a morning person."  
_  
Chuckie was speechless. Suddenly he closed his eyes and hit his fist on his head. "No…NO! This is a dream, wake up Chuckie, WAKE UP!"

Gogol laughed. _"This is no dream, you're awake. Perhaps more awake then any other person alive." _

Chuckie stopped hitting himself to give the cat a curious look "What?"

_"Chuckie, Chuckie, Chuckie," _It said slowly as if he had got something stupidly wrong, _"This is no ordinary case of insanity you have here and I'm no ordinary voice. You are something uniquely special." _

Chuckie's eyes widened in silent wonder as Gogol continued. "I would tell you more but, I need more time to grow, I mean, get adjusted in here. You understand right?"

Chuckie was still rather shocked, so he just nodded dumbly.

The cat sounded pleased, _"Good. Well you better get some sleep while you can. Nighty, night." _

The teenager was about to do just that, however, Chuckie instead stood up as his common sense suddenly came crashing back in."Hey…your that voice that's been talking to me all week aren't you?"

Gogol sighed, _"If you must know, yes." _

Chuckie stood up pointing a slightly shaking finger at the cat. "You keep trying to make me hate my friends!"

_"Oh yes,"_ Gogol replied sarcastically, _"The many legions of them. Look, let's not get off to a bad start. We'll continue this in the morning."_

"BAD START!" Chuckie yelled at the cat, "The other day you said that I should saw the legs off a cheerleader!"

The cat huffed,_ "It was only friendly suggestion." _

Chuckie was about to burst into another shout when there was a knock at the door.

"Chuckie?" The worried, nasally voice of his dad floated through, "Are you OK? I heard shouting and its quarter to four in the morning…"

"Ermm…I'm OK dad, I just…ermm…had a bad dream." Chuckie replied while casting an evil glare at the cat.

"Well OK…if you say so. Goodnight Chuck."

"Night dad," Chuckie said to the door as the sounds of his dads footsteps tapped down the hallway. The teenager then turned to glare again at Gogol before climbing back onto his bed. Slowly his eyes began to droop.

Just before he fell into a restless sleep he heard Gogol chuckled darkly, _"Goodnight, my little waste-lock…" _

--------------------  
Ermm...yea. I'm happy with this. It turned out not as bad as I first thought it would. All the settings are set so now I can continue on my course without having to explain much more. When it was posted it was full of errors...sorry readers. I fixed em I think.

How's everyone liking goth Chuckie? I tried searching on dev-art for one but surprisingly NO ONE has ever drawn one out before. Strange, I always though he'd make the best goth out of them all.

Tommy/Kimi pairing yes...but it's important to the plot, so forgive me and shut up.

Angelica may be being too much of a bitch...but I care not.

Where is poor Dill I hear you ask? Well, he'll be here soon.

The name Gogol is taken from Gogol Bordello, the gypsy punk band whose music is so ace it makes me wanna make banana splits…in ma pants!

Finished at 4:12 am (in the morning!)

Review and you'll be gifted with the ability to breath air! How great is that eh?


	2. What A Day

**BETA NOTES:**  
Wow. You were on something when you wrote this - weren't you:P  
Once again, love it. So dark. So ominous.  
The suspense with the jocks was done really well. You're a great writer!  
It was so spooky there at the end.  
**  
AUTHOR NOTES:**  
Invader Sideos pokes his head up from under whatever rock he has been hiding under and speaks: Wow...yea. WOW!  
WOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW!  
Yea.  
WOW!

YEEEAAAA!

WOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!

Written to Misfits and System of a Down and Metallica. Hey...I've really been going heavy lately in me music taste...humm...but then again I balance it out with Gogol Bordello and the MC5.

I not own anything here that resembles someone using their creativity.  
--------------------

Sunlight streamed through the crack in the curtains casting a thin stream of light into the dim room. Outside the birds sang songs and the local paper boy rode past, throwing a paper at each house along the street.

Inside Chuckie's room, Chuckie was still asleep in his bed. On a small bedside desk sat a spooky looking cat plush and an electronic alarm clock. The time on the alarm suddenly switched to seven o'clock and the pre-set radio alarm jumped into action.

"Thanks for that call Bob. Ok, now its time for the morning weather report with Winston's weather forecast. Winston?"

Chuckie moaned and rolled over on the bed, waving his arm about to shut the radio up. Eventually he shut it off, just as it said something about a storm in a few days.

"Chuckie-san!" His step-mom's voice came up from the staircase at the end of the corridor, "Come down or you'll miss your breakfast! You too Kimi-chan!"

"Coming Kira..." Chuckie mumbled loudly. He was still mostly asleep and so as he lay on the edge of his bed he couldn't really get his legs to move from their warm comfortable place in the bed, onto the cold hard floor.

He closed his eyes and muttered, "Come on Chuckie old boy, get up. Get up. Get-"

_"Up?"_ Interrupted a voice from behind him. _"Nice wake up tactic you have there." _

Chuckie frowned, making his eyes shut even more. "Shut up Gogol."

Suddenly his eyes snapped open as he realized who had spoke. He scrambled off the bed, falling onto the floor with a thump in the process. However Chuckie ignored this and jumped up, taking a step away from the plush cat as he did.

His voice was filled with amazement, but also laced with fear. "Wait...last night...it wasn't a dream. You really do talk."

_"Surprise!"_ Gogol replied cheerily.

Chuckie took a moment to think on this and slowly his face fell. "Oh...great. I've finally snapped."

_"Actually you haven't totally lost it. I mean, you're hardly a mute vegetable or something."_ The cat plush said helpfully.

Chuckie furrowed his brow as he began putting on his clothes. "I'm talking to a spooky cat thing that's been trying to get me to kill people and abandon my friends. I'm pretty sure I'm off my rocker."

The cat chuckled, _"I can see your point." _

"CHUCKIE-SAAAN!" His step-moms voice echoed down the hallway.

"OK KIRA! I'll be right down!" Chuckie shouted to the door. The teenager put on his boots and picked up his backpack. He then walked swiftly round his bed and picked the cat up in one hand. "Look," He said while giving the toy a distancing look, "Are you gonna stay here or what?"

_"Oh, I'll stay here"_ Gogol replied quickly.

Chuckie smirked, "Good because I wouldn't want you annoying me all day." He put the toy on his broken mirror dresser. "And besides, I need to get rid of you as soon as possible."

As Chuckie walked over to the door he heard Gogol darkly mutter, _"Don't count on it."  
_  
------

Chuckie walked down the bus corridor, ignoring the people he passed and making sure he didn't make eye contact with any known assholes that could kick off on him.

After last night and this morning's weirdness he wasn't in the mood for anyone who would give him hassle. However he was enjoying the feeling of not having Gogol mutter the odd homicidal thought to him as he sat down. A second later Dil sat down next to him and Chuckie smiled wearily... at least he wouldn't be lonely.

Dil was the weirdest sixteen year old in the school. He had a mass of curly red hair that poked out from under his Sherpas hat. While he wore what the rest of the gang wore - which was baggy jeans baseball shoes - he also had a very punk-ish black and yellow mo-hawk jumper. That was the great thing about Dil. He wore whatever he felt like and didn't care for external opinions. If Dil wanted to listen to some super sweat bubblegum pop, he would. If Dil wanted to suddenly listen to horribly black Norwegian death metal, he would. It was a trait that Chuckie was greatly thankful for, if Dil was any different, then he would never have anyone to talk to.

He put his backpack in front of his feet because it had a skateboard attached to the front and he turned to smile at the older boy. "Hey Chuck my man, how's it goin'?"

Chuckie leaned back, it was going pretty weird. "It's alright, I guess. I'm just going more insane as the month goes on... that's all."

Dil nodded, "Yea, I heard about what happened yesterday, sorry I couldn't help but I found this amazing book in the library."

He reached into his bag and drew out a large, dusty book that looked like it could fall apart at any minute. It immediately caught Chuckie's interest.

Dil opened it at a random page and explained while reading. "It's a book detailing all sorts of demons and evil creatures that exist in the world. It's so cool! I mean, listen to this one," He coughed and read with his finger. "This monster is unnamed but has existed in the world since the beginning of mankind itself. The monster is usually trapped behind a barrier and needs a subject to constantly feed the barrier with human blood in order to keep it trapped. It often creates sub-demons to do its work and communicate with the subject. The subject is always referred to by the name 'waste-lock'."

He looked up to Chuckie and grinned, "Neat, eh?"

Chuckie nodded although at the same time he was confused. Waste-lock...where had he heard that before? It scratched at the back of his mind, some drowsy, fuzzy memory. He shook it off, intending to think about it later.

The teenager smiled at the younger boy, "What else is in that thing?"

---------

Chuckie walked alone down the corridor avoiding the mass of people walking past him chattering inanely. Dil, Tommy and the others all had soccer practice, which basically meant Chuckie was going home alone... again.

He wasn't good at sports and he couldn't stand being in a team of which half-insulted him about his dress code.

He walked slowly through the halls, letting the other teenagers move out ahead of him. If he was walking home without the others, he preferred it to be totally alone so at least he would have time to think.

Maybe he could even figure out a way to get rid of Gogol or figure out why the word 'waste-lock' was still itching way at the back of his head. He walked out of the High School and was greeted by the comforting silence of an empty road. However, there was something suspicious about it.

_'Its quiet... almost... too quiet,'_ Chuckie thought, failing to resist the urge to crack a cliché.

He stood at the door way of the High School, scanning the short yard that separated the building from the road. The only movement was that of the trees and a few leaves that blew in a slight wind. A car rode past and Chuckie took it as a sign that he was just being paranoid.

He shook his head and smiled slightly at his paranoia. He walked through the yard with no problem and past the large sign proclaiming the name of the High School.

That's when he heard the laughter. He spun round on the spot to see Torque and a two other ugly, stupid jocks getting to their feet from where they had been hiding behind the sign. They where bigger and stronger then Chuckie and there faces told him exactly what they were going to do.

Chuckie had only one chance. **Run. **  
And he turned and did just that.

He took off as fast as his legs could carry him. He didn't know where he was running exactly, just as long as it was away from those guys. He heard a gruff shout and the sound of footsteps quickly following him. He ran until his legs hurt and his lungs burned. Pushing past random people and crossing the road to get down an alleyway.

Unfortunately for Chuckie, fate would have it to be a dead end.

Three walls reared up in front, and on both sides of the teenager. He turned around, hoping that maybe he could run out before the jocks arrived. But he was much too late; they were already halfway down the ally.

Chuckie swore as they advanced on him before, in one desperate last ditch effort to escape his painful fate, he shouted: "Why are you doing this to me?"

Torque grinned. "Because you're a goff...goff."

The three bullies ran forward and all Chuckie knew for the next ten minutes was pain. Eventually they stopped, leaving Chuckie curled up on the floor bleeding out his nose, mouth and various other cuts across his body. They laughed at their sick work and walked of talking about who's dating who. Chuckie lay there for a while, feeling the pain ease from a spike to a throb, feeling his blood seep from his wounds.

Eventually he picked himself off the floor, wincing at the complaints his body shouted at him as he did, and picked up his bag. He was lucky it seemed they hadn't touched it.

He looked up with tear-stained eyes and slowly, he began to walk home.

--

Red swirled round the plug hole as a topless Chuckie washed away the last of the blood that had swam from his wounds. He stood in his bathroom, door locked, eyes closed while holding onto the sides of the sink.

"Chuckie..." Kimi's voice drifted through the door softly, "You didn't show up for work. Is everything ok?"

Chuckie wanted to tell his step-sister to get lost and mind her own business. "I...had detention."

There was a short silence before she began again and more firmly she asked, "Chuckie, what's happened? Unlock this door and tell me!"

Chuckie growled silently at the door before pulling his shirt back on and opening the door. He pushed roughly past his step-sister and stomped down the hall towards his room.

Kimi immediately followed behind him, "Chuckie what's wrong? Is that blood on your shirt? SPEAK TO ME!"

Chuckie opened the door to his room and looked at her sadly. For a moment he wanted to tell her everything: Gogol, the fight, the constant feeling of distance and hate that filled him whenever he looked at other people.

"I fell over...badly."

Then he shut his door, clicking the lock into place leaving Kimi standing emotionless in the hall.

From the moment he sat on his bed, hanging his head low, Gogol began talking. _"Ohh...what happened to you?" _

Chuckie cast a glance of hate from where he was sitting. "I was beaten up."

_"Nasty,"_ The spooky cat replied slowly. There was a short pause before the cat said, _"I can heal you if you want." _

Chuckie looked up again, intrigued by Gogol'ss offer, _"What?"_  
_  
"Come to the mirror"_ Gogol asked in a strange sounding way, a cross between a request and a demand.

Chuckie lifted himself up, hesitated, then walked to the mirror silently. He sat down on the little wooden stool that came with the dresser and looked at himself in the dusty mirror. His eyes seemed darker then usual, his hair seemed wilder and his skin seemed paler. He smiled and even that seemed creepier then it used to be. For a second he was shocked at his appearance; he looked like some sort of maniac, but then he remembered he liked looking like some sort of maniac.

His eyes looked down to the black, red eyed cat that sat on his left. "Well?"

_"Ok,"_ It said quickly, _"Now, I need some blood." _

Chuckie was taken back, "Whoa, blood? You said nothing about blood, and anyway, where the hell I am gonna get blood?"  
_  
"Well," _Gogol mused, _"How about yourself? Just cut yourself somewhere, it's not that hard." _

The teenager looked at the cat uneasily. Cutting himself? He knew he was a depressed at the current stare of affairs but he was definitely not that depressed.

Gogol must have seen the look on the boys face. _"Look, do you want to be healed or not? Blood is needed as a gift or my master won't help you." _

Chuckie's eyes narrowed. "Your master?"

The cat chuckled darkly, _"Like I said Chuckie, I'm no ordinary voice and you are no ordinary person." _

Suddenly Chuckie remembered what Dil was telling him this morning and the word 'waste-lock' popped into his head. Everything slotted horribly into place. He almost fell off his chair with shock, but he gained his balance and he back away from the dresser. "I'm a waste-lock...You're trying to get me to feed some shadowy monster thing with blood! I won't be a slave to some demon and I won't kill people!"  
_  
"Now, now Chuckie," _The cat said smoothly, _"You've got it all wrong. Yes, you will be feeding a demon with blood and yes it would mean you would have to kill people, but don't you think we've thought of that? Chuckie my boy, you will be protected." _

Chuckie's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, "Protected?"

_"Yes,"_ Gogol continued, _"We can give you the power to heal in a few hours, you will never be caught, you could do whatever you want. You can walk though this life without fear, without harm, a living god almost. And all you have to do is keep feeding my master with blood; it's not much considering the interest you make." _

Chuckie shook his head and sat back on the stool, but he didn't take his eyes from Gogol. "I...don't know...I can't kill people..."

Gogol laughed, _"Who says? We can give you that power as well. Think about it, you will have to power to fight back, to take revenge on all those people who don't deserve to live." _

Chuckie hung his head, ashamed of the fact that he was very tempted to take Gogol's offer, "I...I..."

Gogol's voice suddenly softened, _"Chuckie, you are a waste-lock. Do you know what that means? I t means that all the waste, all the shit and horror that humanity does is locked into you. You're like a human waste basket, all those terrifying acts build up inside you so they don't overflow and cause a total humanity meltdown. You were going to snap one day, all waste-locks do, but the difference with you is that you have us on your side. Think about it, think about what you could do with this power." _

The boy looked up, "What do you mean?"  
_  
"The ones that did all that damage to you, how you like to get them back without fear of any repercussion?" _

Chuckie slowly stood up, his body filling with a hot burning rage at the though of the jocks. His mind raced, this was wrong, insane, but he felt that he deserved this. He deserved to have his say, his revenge.

"Alright." He confidently nodded, "But first, prove you can heal me."

For a second Chuckie could have sworn he saw Gogol's eyes glow, but it must have been a trick of the light. _"Good boy. Take a piece of cracked glass from the mirror and cut your arm. That should be enough for now." _

Chuckie reached forward, taking a piece of the smashed mirror into his left hand. He tried to ignore the fact that his stomach was churning and his hand was shaking. He tried to steady himself. As he looked at the glass he could see a strange black mist growing within it, moving slowly to the sharpest edge. A weird coldness entered the room, everything grew darker and all the sound outside died away.

Slowly he drew up his right sleeve and rested the glass on his arm. He took a deep breath and he pressed the glass deep into his arm. He closed his eyes as he felt a sharp pain spring up as he drew the glass quickly across his skin. He looked at his arm was saw a saw a small trail of blood welling up where he had cut himself.

_"Let him feed from it, put your blood on him." _

Chuckle turned the glass on its side and pressed firmly it against his wound. He let it stay for a moment before drawing it back, the glass blade had a thin lining of red now painted on it and the black shadow behind it had gone.  
_  
"It is done,"_ Gogol said formally, _"Now you wait."_

--------------------  
Woop!  
What a chapter.  
Yup, so Chuckie is starting to serve some horrible evil thingy that lives in mirrors.  
You like eh? I know you do...it dwells within your mind...will Chuckie survive this or became a raving psychopath?  
Only I know...and I'm not telling. Well…actually I don't. I'm still deciding the ending.

Review please...please? PLEASE! OH GOD PLEASE! I NEED IT...AGHAGHAGHAGHAGAHA!


	3. 20 Questions

BETA NOTES:  
Laugh maniacally... and he already has a cat. Looks like we're looking at a grade A super villain here. :D

Description is great. Character's are right on. The slushie touch was so Zim-like. I can't count the amount of slushies that they kept throwing in that show!

Gogol was freaky.

Where will Chuckie go? Home? To see Phil or Dil?

Great, exciting work!  
-----------------------------------------

Woop.

Eat me. I am tasty and made of cookie dough.

Hope your all liking this...yep. I sure do.

Written to METALLICA! Again...I think they've become the official band for this story or something. Also written to anything else dark and inspiring I can find.  
I don't own bla, bla, bla.  
--------------------

When Chuckie's eyes crept open, everything was blurry. He then remembered he didn't have his glasses on, as he actually went to sleep last night instead of just staying awake until his body stopped working. His eyes closed and he snuggled back into his bed as he remembered that today was the start of the weekend.

He yawned and reached to get his glasses off the bed-side cabinet. Slowly, after putting them on he hauled himself up to sitting position.

"Morning." He yawned at the cat sitting innocently on his broken dresser.

_"Morning Chuckie, you seem more alert then usual..."_ it answered slowly.

Chuckie nodded. He did feel odd. Like he'd had a shower, but as if it had washed off all the anger and depression he had been feeling lately.

He smiled in recognition of that fact. "Hey...you're right. I do feel better."

Gogol agreed, _"Indeed, check out your wounds." _

Chuckie immediately began searching his body for the cuts he received yesterday and was amazed to find all of them gone. However, one undeniable scar remained. One long, reddish-pink one on his right arm.

He looked angrily at Gogol. "Hey, you said I would be healed."

_"And you have"_ it answered with a hint of laughter in its voice.

Chuckie got up from his bed and stormed over to the red-eyed cat shoving his arm in its face. "Well? What do you call this?"

Gogol didn't move, _"I call that a scar. Look, we healed the damage, scars are a not damage. Sorry about that. Please report to customer service if you experience any more problems with our product,"_ It finished sounding rather sarcastic.

Chuckie growled before he gave it up and sighed. "You're right, in an annoying way. Thanks for healing the cuts."  
_  
"Anytime" _the cat cheerily replied. _"After all, you are working for us now." _

Chuckie began hunting down some wearable clothes, all the while scowling at the cat. "The only person I work for is my dad. I haven't said I would take your offer yet."  
_  
"Oh, I think you do work for us..." _Gogol said coldly, _"You gave your blood to our master, now you must keep it up."  
_  
Chuckie chuckled lightly, "Or what? I loose my ability to murder without being caught? Big loss, I was never going to murder anyone anyway. I mean, what do you think I am? Some sorta homicidal maniac? I don't think so."

Gogol's eyes seemed to darken. _"You don't want to know what will happen if you don't keep this up. The last prospect refused and well...the poor boy is now a gibbering mental wreak. Pity, I really liked him and all." _

Chuckie faulted but regained his cockiness, he was in too much of a good mood this morning to let this little tiny cat plush scare him into doing anything. He glanced at his alarm clock, which was set to go off differently on weekends. Which was that it _didn't _go off on weekends.

This allowed Chuckie to lie in for a while, but it also had its drawbacks.

"Oh SHIT!" The teenager exclaimed as he looked at the alarm clock, "I'm late for work!" He began rushing around while the cat watched lifelessly.

Chuckie pulled on his boots and clipped them into place. Then he grabbed a fresh shirt and shoved it in the bag. He went to grab his backpack but was stopped when a rumbling protest came from his belly. He then threw the backpack down and quickly left the room. He almost jumped down the stairs and darted into the kitchen. As quickly as he could he made a pair of pop-tarts then, stuffing one in his mouth he turned to go get his backpack. However he turned around only to see his step-mom, Kira.

Kira had black hair that fell over one side of her face and Japanese native skin. She was in good shape for a forty-one year old and still retained most of her youth. She was wearing her red rimmed glasses, a gray skirt and a matching gray jacket with a white shirt underneath. On her feet (one of which was tapping in an angry manner) were a pair of plain black high heels. She had her hands on her hips and was giving Chuckie a look that was making him squirm.

"Chuckie-san...You were meant to be at the cafe half an hour ago!" She sighed and relaxed, "Really, you teenagers... I don't know..."

Chuckie looked down at his feet while taking the pop-tart out of his mouth. "Sorry Kira, I overslept."

She chuckled and piled a bunch of files into a briefcase, "You always oversleep. The only one worse then you is your father."

Chuckie laughed as he realized he'd gotten off the hook. She smiled, clipping her briefcase up and taking it in one hand. "Hurry up. I'll give you a lift there on my way to work." She said and sighed, "I hate doing work on the weekends."

Chuckie shoved the rest of his pop-tart into his mouth and shouted a muffled, "Thanks!" as he ran out the room to go get his bag. He darted back up the stairs, into his room and grabbed his bag. He lifted it onto his shoulder without even noticing that Gogol was not on his place on the dresser. He then darted downstairs and into the waiting car on the driveway.

The drive there was relatively uneventful. Kira and Chuckie talked about how Hi-School was boring and how work was also boring. Then they listened to the weather report on how it was going to thunder on Monday, which caused Chuckie to notice that it was indeed rather cloudy.

Then, as they neared their destination the talk in the car grew suspiciously quiet.

"Chuckie-san," Kira said slowly, "Can I ask you a question?"

Chuckie was looking out of the window at the increasingly gray looking sky, "Sure."

"Is everything Ok?" Her voice sounded worried, causing Chuckie to turn his head.

He was almost surprised of how easy it was to lie. "Sure it is."

Kira however pressed on, "No trouble at school? Nothing you want to tell me about?"

Chuckie shook his head, "No, not really."

_"Its naughty to lie to your parents you know..." _

Chuckie's face drained quickly of all its color, or at least of any color it had. The voice had floated up from his bag, which was sitting on his lap.

Kira noticed this, "Chuckie are you Ok? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Chuckie smiled nervously at her, "No, no I'm fine. Just a little stomach ache, I shouldn't have ate those pop-tarts so fast."

"Well," She said, returning to her original, worried tone, "It's just that me and your father are worried about you. You've been acting a bit strange lately."

Chuckie looked forward, wishing to hell that the cafe was near. "What do you mean?"

_"Yea, I wonder what she could possibly mean,"_ Gogol's sneering, sarcastic voice floated out from the backpack.

"Shut up," Chuckie hissed back at it.

"What was that?" Kira quipped.

"Oh, err... nothing." The boy quickly covered.

Kira sighed as Chuckie glared at his backpack. "Well, yesterday you hardly said a word and Kimi said you had blood on your shirt."

Chuckie suppressed the urge to growl at his step-sister's actions. "I fell over. It was nothing, really."

_"Yep. You fell over. All those bruises and cuts from one little trip on a sidewalk."_ Gogol taunted.

Chuckie again glared at the backpack. Kira sighed again as she slowed to a stop outside the cafe. She then turned to Chuckie. "Look, I just want you to know that me and your father love you and you can tell us anything, ok?"

Chuckie nodded and gripped his backpack. "Ok."

She smiled. "Ok, cya later Chuckie-san." And she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

"Cya later Kira," Chuckie smiled as he got out the car. He walked up to the door and waved his step-mom off. However the moment she was gone his hand delved into his backpack and he brought out the little black cat.

Chuckie was furious. "Just what the HELL are you doing?"

Gogol remained still for a moment, then, slowly, it tilted its head. _"Oh, I wanted to see where you work." _

Chuckie's anger vanished into horror. He dropped the cat plush onto the floor and backed away. The cat, almost naturally, landed on all fours.

It sat down and looked up at the frightened teen. _"Oh, and I can move now. I thought I'd let you know."  
_  
Chuckie looked around hurriedly, checking if anyone could see the cat, before grabbing it and stuffing it in his bag. He looked down at Gogol, whose red eyes lit up in the dark of the backpack. "Look, just...stay in there and don't come out alright?"

Gogol said nothing and Chuckie took that as a yes. He reached into his pocket and drew out his key to the cafe.

Once inside he heard a shout from the back room. "Chuckie? Is that you?"

"Yea Kimi," He shouted back, "Sorry I'm late."

She walked out of the back room with a hand towel over her shoulder and a white work apron on over her usual clothes. "That's ok. Set out the chairs I've got to finish up in the storeroom."

She then turned and walked back in before Chuckie could say anything. He raised an eyebrow at his step-sisters odd behavior; usually she would give him a hug or at least talk to him for a moment. He shrugged and went to work.

--

The cafe bustled with the usual Saturday afternoon crowd. A few web surfers and scene kids hung around. Most people seemed to be getting out of the cold weather and getting a cup of coffee on their way around town. Chuckie had already served quite a few people by now, not as many as Kimi, but that's how it was.

People would rather be served by someone who looked normal rather than someone who doesn't.

Right now Chuckie and Kimi where taking a break while Betty (Phil and Lil's mom) worked the till with Chuckie's dad, Chaz. Betty was a large, brown haired woman who wasn't afraid of anything. This was handy when dealing with problem customers. She wore a plaid blue shirt and a pair of worn in brown pants with some simple shoes. Over this she wore a white work apron. Her age showed, but she was still young at heart and easily the hardest worker in the cafe.

Chaz was quite the opposite. A short, timid man with neatly cut red hair and a short red mustache. He wore a faded yellow shirt and a pair of simple blue jeans. He had a pair of old brown shoes and a pair of thick blue-rimmed glasses. The likeness between him and his son, Chuckie, was easily noticeable. However, Chuckie seemed to have inherited his mother's slimness and tall height, something for which he was greatly thankful for.

Chuckie sat down on a red chair, placing his orange slushie down on the table, and leaned back closing his eyes, sighing as he did so. After doing this job for so long he should be used to it, though he was still glad for the breaks.

There was a ring of the door as it opened and closed, Chuckie opened one eye. He smiled as Tommy spotted him and walked over, sitting down across from him.

"Hey Chuck, how's it going?" He held out a fist in greeting.

Chuckie raised his fist and hit it lightly against his friends before slumping down in his chair again. "Its going the usual. Tiring and in need of sugary drinks."

Tommy laughed, but it sounded odd, almost forced. He looked around, "Hey, where's Kimi?"

Chuckie closed his eyes, "Your wife is just washing up, she'll be here in a min."

Tommy scowled lightly at the phrase but brushed it off. The boy then looked to the store room as Kimi walked out. At the sight of her boyfriend she smiled tiredly, but warmly, and walked over. Chuckie closed his eyes again and tried to massage his temples.

He did that until the two had finished with each other and Kimi sat down next to Tommy. There was a pregnant silence that Chuckie was oblivious to as Tommy and Kimi looked anxiously at each other, then at Chuckie.

Only until Chuckie finally stopped his temple-massaging did he notice the looks on the other teen's faces.

"What?" He said suspiciously.

Tommy looked at Kimi then linked his hands together to look at them, then back to Chuckie. "Chuckie...there's something we wanna talk to you about."

Chuckie had a sudden feeling of dread and he slowly pulled himself back up to regular sitting position. His eyes narrowed, "What? What is it?"

Kimi jumped in first. "It's about last night. Last night, in your room, I heard you talking to someone."

Chuckie felt a cold chill go down his spine. Kimi continued, "Except the thing is, I only heard you talking..."

Chuckie's nervously tapped his fingers on the table and didn't say anything.

Tommy continued, "The thing is Chuckie; you don't have a phone in your room. And Kimi was on the phone to me most of the night."

Chuckie ran through several lies he could tell to try and get out of this. He was watching TV...no. He was listening to a radio...no. Suddenly he was struck with a good idea. He leaned back casually and smugly said, "I was reading out loud."

Tommy raised an eyebrow and Kimi looked gob-smacked. Chuckie smiled smugly at them both and took a slurp of his slushie through a straw. Kimi looked to Tommy, still shocked at Chuckie's answer. Tommy lent over and whispered something in his girlfriend's ear. She hurriedly whispered something back before Tommy looked into her eyes and said, "Please?"

She slowly shook her head but got up, "Only a few minutes, Ok?"

Tommy nodded and Chuckie watched his step-sister walk off into the storeroom. The two boys turned to look at each other; Chuckie still slurped his slushie as if he didn't care.

Tommy face suddenly turned angry. "Chuckie, look, we've been friends since we were...well, babies! And lately I couldn't help but notice the fact that you've turned into a real asshole."

Chuckie almost coughed in his slushie. "What! Me? An asshole? I think you're mistaken Tommy, it's everyone else who's the asshole."

Tommy leaned back throwing his arms up, "Come on, man, I mean, look at you! Last week you basically stopped talking to anyone, even me and Kimi. You only ever talk to Dil on the bus. Otherwise you just mope about on your own. And now you're talking to yourself in your room..."

His demeanor changed and he looked down at the table, "Look, dude, its just that we're all really worried about you, ok? I mean, Kimi was almost in tears last night because of what you said to her, and what you we're doing."

Chuckie looked at his oldest friend and the anger slowly melted from his face. He sighed, "Tommy...if I told you, you wouldn't believe me."

Tommy leaned back and smiled, "try me." But this smiled fell at the seriousness on his friends face.

Chuckie sighed, "Ok, what I'm about to tell you is the truth, everything is real and none of it is made up. Ok?"

Tommy nodded, "Ok."

Chuckie linked his fingers together and looked at them. He took a deep breath and started. "Ok...well, a week ago I began to hear a weird little voice in the back of my head. It told me to do things like get rid of you guys and sometimes it suggested killing people. Then, about two nights ago, Kimi bought me a little cat plush because of the lunch hall thing. That night, it started talking to me."

Tommy's face could have been chipped from stone. He wasn't moving, only listening. Chuckie closed his eyes and looked away as he continued. "It calls itself Gogol and claim's that I'm a waste-lock. Some kinda human trash can of all the terrible actions humanity does. It also said that it serves a being who can keep me from all harm; it can heal me in a day and let me get away with anything. Even murder. It says that eventually I'm going to snap and kill someone, but if I serve it and it's master with human blood I can get away with it all. This morning it started moving and it's in my backpack right now."

Tommy leaned back heavily into his chair. For a while there was only a silence between the two boys. Finally Tommy slowly said, "Ok Chuckie. I believe that all this stuff you said, was real...to you."

Chuckie's eyes narrowed. "What?"

Tommy eyes locked onto his friend, but while his face was expressionless his eyes were filled with worry. "Chuckie...I think you need to see someone. Someone like a therapist."

Chuckie slowly stood up. "...Screw you dude."

Chuckie then began to walk swiftly towards the storeroom. Tommy immediately followed him. Chuckie filled with rage, a white hot burning rage that he could feel flowing though him. It raced into his every vein, his heart. He curled his hands tightly as he pushed though the storeroom door with Tommy still in tow.

Kimi stood up from where she had been sitting on a barrel of fruits. "What going on?"  
She moved towards Chuckie as he threw off his apron and grabbed his bag. As he turned towards the back door she darted in front of him, her expression battling between anger and fear. "Chuckie, where are you going?"

Suddenly, Chuckie felt something inside him break. He roared and pushed his step-sister aside with such force she fell onto the floor. Chuckie had a sudden rush of power, he desperately fought back the urge to laugh manically and continued storming towards the back-door Tommy immediately knelt down to help Kimi to her feet, but by the time he raised his head to shout at his friend, Chuckie had gone.

--------------------  
WOW! How eventful! And a cliff-hanger!  
I didn't want to end it there, but it kinda just evolved into it. Hum...Anyways, JTHM fans can probably guess where Chuckie is gonna end up.  
That Tommy-Chuckie talking thing was the very first thing that I planned when I started this fic.  
Finished a 1:15 am while listening to Misfits.  
Nice finish if I do say so meself.


	4. House 777

BETA NOTES:

It's funny that the door didn't read 6-6-6. 7-7-7 is the number of completeness, of spirituality. But 666 is of humanity, demonism and evil. ?

This was another spooky chapter for you. As usual, I'm really getting into it. The in character action was _in characte_r. Gogol is really developing.But I don't know Vasquez's stuff as well as you, so I can't really predict the ending.

Anyway, we see Chuckie's character change into the homicidal maniac we all know he is deep down. ;)

Now, get to the blood and gore:D

NOTES:  
Gimmie fuel! Gimmie fire! MY DESIRE! MUHAHAHAHHAHA!  
Ahem...Yes. Time for talk and boredom.  
Once again I don't really know where I'm going in this chapter. I have a vague idea but those always seem to give way to fanatic typing and a streaming consciousness of ideas.  
Humm...I really should learn to control that a bit.

Written to...anything. Music. Sounds. Dog barks. But probably mostly Metallica. And by mostly Metallica I mean mostly Fuel.

I own nothing...ever. I steel things to survive (No really I do. This PC? Stolen. Most of my DVDs? Stolen. I'm a through and through thief.)  
--------------------

A cold wind blew across the street, causing the trees to rustle and the grass to wave. The street was empty. No cars drove by, no dogs barked, no cats meowed... there was an almost unnatural silence. Only the wind hissed through the air. The street was dark, lonely and the moon was hidden behind a wall of gray ominous clouds.

Only one being broke the solid stillness of the street. A tall, skinny boy with a head of wild red hair. Chuckie had been walking for hours. He had stormed out of the Java Lava and down the nearest alleyway. He needed to get away from those people - his so-called friends who didn't believe him. He asked them for help and all they suggested was that he should see a shrink.

He growled.

_This_ was why he hated people. No one believed him, no one ever listened to him. As he walked his rage had faded, but had not vanished. The rush of power he felt when he knocked over Kimi was still lingering in the back of his mind.

He should be ashamed of himself for doing something so horrible to her, but he wasn't. He was ashamed because he had enjoyed it so much. He felt like she deserved it... they all deserved to be knocked down.

Gogol had been strangely quiet the entire trip, something Chuckie had noticed, but had not said anything about. Right now he wasn't in the mood to be talking to the possessed cat.

As the boy walked he looked at the houses surrounding him. Houses probably filled with stupid, ignorant people and their stupid, ignorant children. He could just picture them stuffing their fat faces with junk food and watching day-time TV talk shows. His fingers curled and a sick grin grew across his face as he pictured himself ripping them apart with a fish knife in each hand.

Gogol's words echoed in his thoughts: _"free to do whatever you want, even kill."_

Suddenly, he stopped outside one of the houses. This house looked remarkably different to all the others. It was wrecked and it had all but one of it's windows boarded up. The walls were covered in cracks and all the grass outside was overgrown. The house itself seemed to radiate a darkness, a strange horror. Chuckie could almost feel the houses' presence tingling down his spine.  
_  
"Go in,"_ said Gogol, breaking the silence.

Chuckie slowly walked down the dirty path towards the house. The house number read seven-seven-seven. The door was old, but seemed sturdy enough and it had a sign on the front:  
**  
'Welcome to hell. Please wipe your feet'** Chuckie read cautiously.

He pushed open the door, and coughed as a cloud of dust exploded into the air, then staggered in, coughing violently as his allergies flared up.

He opened his eyes and let them adjust to the gloom. The house was filthy and clearly it hadn't been lived in for some time. There was a single, haggard couch and a TV with a pair of bunny ears for antenna. He could see a small kitchen to his right and two closed doors to his right.

Apart from that, there was very little. No chairs, tables or any of the other things that fill up peoples homes.

As his coughing died off Chuckie searched the wall for a light switch, which he found. Surprisingly the lights still worked, which Chuckie also took as a sign that electricity was still working in the dilapidated place.

As he walked about the place he felt something odd, a great sense of belonging. He felt that this was where he should be, this was someplace he could truly call his own. He felt something rustle inside his backpack so he took it off. Gogol slowly wriggled out of it and jumped onto the top of the couch.

Chuckie walked around looking at things; a box of nails and a few empty buckets of paint. He opened one of the doors to see a dirty looking bathroom.

_"You like, eh?"_ Gogol said happily. Chuckie nodded and the cat continued to talk. _"This was the home of the last few waste-locks. It can be your home too. I mean, I'm pretty sure you're not going to go back to them are you?" _

Chuckie sat down on a large box labeled 'parts' and looked down at his feet. "I don't know...by now Tommy and Kimi have probably told everyone else what I've done. What I said..."

Gogol nodded. _"Indeed, if you went back they'd lock you up in a crazy house." _

The teenager sighed, "What can I do? I'm so confused."

Gogol stared at the teenager then hopped off the couch. It slowly padded over to the boy before it sat in front of him. _"You don't have a choice Chuckie my boy. You can work for us; take revenge on them for not believing you." _

"NO!" He shouted and stood up walking away from the cat. "I'm not a murderer. I won't kill people."

Gogol laughed. _"Oh really? And of course you didn't feel the power of hate flow though you back in the cafe? You didn't enjoy it when you threw down that girl?" _

Chuckie gulped and scowled, but he kept his back to the cat. "No...well...maybe."

_"Maybe,"_ Gogol mocked slightly, _"I know you did. I know you reveled in her pain, in letting your hate flow through you. I know you wanted to take it further then just pushing her over. I mean, just look at your thoughts a few minutes ago. We can make those fantasies... realities." _

Chuckie said nothing to it's suggestion and walked towards a door. He didn't want to talk because if he did he knew he would admit to wanting it. To _wanting_ to kill them.

To his surprise the door revealed a staircase leading downwards. Gogol padded up beside the boy and began to follow him as Chuckie walked down further into the gloom. The staircase was narrow, dark and Chuckie could make out insects scuttling about, but he didn't care. He never minded insects; he had gotten over that phobia long ago.

Eventually after walking for a minute or so he came out into a small hall. Pipes snaked across the walls and Chuckie could make out some worn and faded posters on the walls. As he walked on the space around him became wider, he began to make out tables and more boxes. Tables covered with dried gore, knives and other sharp objects that had probably been used for things of unimaginably painful torture.

Chuckie looked on, trying to block out thoughts of what he could do to people with those weapons.

"What is all this?" He finally asked as he continued down another flight of stairs.

_"This,"_ Gogol said as they entered another room, this one with lots of harnesses hanging from the ceiling, _"Is where you can torture the ones you think are worth torturing."  
_  
Chuckie nodded silently, it seemed like a good idea. He looked back to the small black cat, "And the police have never found this place? Ever?"

Gogol nodded, _"Nope. This house, and you, my boy, have a sort of...force field around you that can keep you from all harm. Only those with exceptional perception and knowledge of supernatural can ever detect this place." _

"So...say, if I were to bring someone back here," Chuckie asked as they passed a mass of painting, all amazingly detailed but also disturbing to look at. Chuckie stopped to admire the work before continuing on with his walk and the conversation. "And say if this...guest escaped, would they be able to get the police and bring them back here?"

Gogol shook his head, "Nope. Even though they would remember everything, they would never be able to find the place. They could drive past this house, or you, and never be able to notice either."

Chuckie stopped as the corridor gave way to a drop, he could see it was only a small drop which went into another room filled with torture devices. Chuckie looked over and then turned back, he would explore the lower levels later, right now he was too tired. He turned around and began walking back through the rooms and back up the stairs. Gogol followed, looking slightly disappointed at the boy's lack of interest.

As they ascended back up to the upper levels Chuckie thought about what he had observed in the house._ 'They really have got a sweat operation set up here. They've thought of everything, I'd have nothing to fear if I did take up the offer...NO! I'm not a killer...but still...' _

He hugged his arms tight, he was so unsure of what was happening to him. Last week he was perfectly normal kid, now, in the space of three days his life had changed completely. He was once thinking about having a possible career in...well he wasn't really sure what. Something in animation maybe, he'd always liked cartoons. Now however he was looking at the lifelong position of local homicidal maniac.

The boy sighed as he walked back into the main room of the house, "Life, it's just one damn thing after another."

Gogol nodded as he jumped up onto the couch, _"Elbert Hubbard I believe. Although I prefer this one: the great irony of life is that hardly anyone gets out of it alive." _

Chuckie grinned sarcastically. "Robert Heinlein? I should've guessed that would have been your favorite."

Chuckie sat down on the couch, ignoring the dust. It was surprisingly comfortable, even if it was rather dusty and dirty. After a moment of couch diving Chuckie found the remote under the seat he was sitting on, and, slouching down, he turned on the TV.

It was a news report. The news reader was a smart looking, brown haired man who looked bored of his job. In the corner of the screen was a box showing the name of the news station.

"The police are still on the hunt for seventeen year old Chuckie Finster."

Chuckie raised an eyebrow but otherwise did nothing. The newsreader continued as an old high-school picture appeared in the corner.

Gogol tilted its head slightly, _"Did you comb your hair for that picture?" _

Chuckie cast the cat a glare before continuing to watch the TV.

"The teenager disappeared out of his father's café earlier today after he argued with his best friend and his step-sister."

The camera suddenly switched to one of the jocks at school and Chuckie felt that white hot rage begin to bubble inside him.

"Yea," The blond headed jock stated dumbly, "He was always a bit weird, ya know?"

The camera switched again to some red head cheerleader, "He never had any friends. He spent all his time on his own."

Chuckie's fingers dug into the couch, creating scores as they ripped the material.

Suddenly the camera switched to someone Chuckie knew, it was Kimi. For a moment, the rage died down and his eyes widened.

"Please, Chuckie." She stated, her voice was quivering and her eyes were filled with tears, "Please, come home. We're not mad at you, we want to help you... please."

She then burst into tears and the camera pulled back as she dived into Tommy's arms. Tommy had red around his eyes, but he just hugged Kimi tight and looked away from the camera.

The screen went back to the main announcer. "The police are still looking for the boy and-"

Chuckie turned the TV off, he'd seen enough.  
_  
"Ha, like they mean that." _Chuckie heard Gogol sneer next to him, _"Their idea of help is putting you in a straight jacket and stuffing you full of clozapine." _

Chuckie couldn't help but agree. "Yea…but, still, Kimi and Tommy seemed pretty upset…"

Gogol narrowed one eye at the boy, _"You don't honestly believe that act do you? It's a lure, my boy. Their trying to trap you in a mental ward. They're going to betray you, just like they did in the lunch hall."  
_  
At the mention of the lunch hall Chuckie felt the anger rage up inside him again. He snarled, "Yea, you're right. Those bastards."

He stood up, the urge to rip something apart rushing though him. "Why would they betray me like that!"

His voice was rising, growing angrier with every second; he stomped around for a moment, looking for something to break. When he spotted a door he stopped his chance to destroy something. He stomped over and gave it a swift kick.

The door swung open to reveal a sort of bedroom, except it had no bed, only a scarred curtain dividing the room and a dresser that looked a lot like the one in his room. It even had a chair...

"Hey...that's my dresser!" Chuckie was gob smacked, his anger instantly vanishing. "How the hell did it get here?"

Gogol walked between the boys legs and chuckled. _"We have our ways." _

Chuckie walked up to it, glad to see the sight of something familiar. He touched the glass where the dark remains of blood could still be seen. He sighed sitting down with a slump, "Looks like I really am living here from now on."

Gogol jumped up onto the dresser looking at the boy with its blood red eyes. _"So does that mean you'll go next door, slaughter them and drain their blood to paint the mirror?" _

"No," He said quietly while closing his eyes, "I told you I'm not a killer."

"Well," the cat huffed, "You'll have to think of something because the barrier grows thin. And you don't want to set our master loose."

"_Your_ master," Chuckie corrected giving Gogol a quick glare, "And what do you mean set him loose?"

Gogol chuckled darkly, "You don't think it was all give, give, give, do you? This comes at a cost my boy, if you don't feed our master blood then the barrier which keeps him behind the mirror will weaken and he will escape into this world."

Chuckie looked at the mirror, which, instead of showing his reflection, swirled with a dark mist. "What happens then?"

Gogol looked at the mirror, "It kills everything it passes until it is satisfied and returns to the barrier once more. Oh, and it always kills the ones who serve it, which would mean both of us."

Chuckie growled at the black cat, "So you're just trying to save your own neck?"

Gogol growled back, _"No, I only wish to serve our master. Others have tried to outsmart him, to grow apart from him, to become there own beings. I have seen them fail time after time." _

Chuckie was silent as he observed the intricate swirls and motions of the mist. Eventually he said, "So you tricked me."

Gogol waved its tail once,_ "It was necessary." _

Chuckie turned to it and growled again, "To get yourself a new slave."

Gogol stood up, trying to make itself look big. It didn't work. _"Look, this is a two way deal. You work for us, we help you survive. I don't know what you're bitching about here... and anyway," _Gogol sat back down, its eyes lighting up slightly,_ "It's not like you have a choice." _

Chuckie sighed again and looked at the mirror. Gogol stared at the boy and slowly said. _"Look. Let's put things into perspective here. If you go back, they'll throw you in the loony bin and you'll never come out. Further more our master will come for you and kill you. You can keep him back by feeding the mirror with blood. It can be the blood of your worst enemies; you don't have to kill your family if you don't want." _

Chuckie closed his eyes, "What if I just feed it with my blood?"  
_  
"You only have so much blood Chuckie, how much could you give before you run out? How many times could you cut yourself? And anyway, our master will need more amounts as time goes on." _

Chuckie sighed. "I wonder where it went wrong. Was it when I bought these clothes? These boots? Was it when I stopped talking to people who I started to despise or when they stopped talking to me? Was it when you started talking, was it the lunch-hall..."

He lent onto the dresser putting his head into his hands. "Oh God...what the hell has happened to me?"

Gogol looked on as tears fell down the boys cheeks._ "Chuckie, I know you feel depressed, but you can cure it. Look inside the left top drawer." _

Chuckie dried his eyes on his left sleeve and looked at Gogol, confused. Then he lent back slightly and opened the draw. His eyes widened at the sight and a gasp escaped his mouth. Slowly, with both hands, he reached into the draw and took out the items.

"They're... beautiful," He whispered as he held the weapons in each hand. The knives were long, about the length of Chuckie's wrist to his elbow and were hooked at the ends. The handles where covered in a soft but graspable material and hilt was like a small metal ball. He held them in front of himself before flipping them around and holding them so they pointed downwards.

Gogol tilted its head slightly, _"That's a good look on you. Those blades have been passed down from almost every waste-lock who had ever served us. They can never break and can cut through practically anything. They're lightweight and easy to conceal. The perfect killing weapons." _

Holding the weapons Chuckie felt that same rush of power he had felt back at the cafe. It infected him, drilling into his hands, his feet, his heart. Chuckie closed his eyes as he revealed in the feeling. He felt almost drunk; he swayed in his seat slightly and started laughing softly.

The laugh grew louder and the teenager tilted his head back as his insane fit of laugher filled the room, then the whole house.

When he finally stopped he looked down at Gogol, a psychotic mixture of power and insanity dancing in his eyes.

He smiled. "Tell me again about the killing."

--------------------  
WOOP! It took me a royal age to get this done. Mostly because I was never happy with it, always something to correct or add or something.

But now I'm finally happy with it. Apart from Chuckie's emotions going haywire all through this. Damn emotions.

It's got everything I wanted it to have. Even if it is a bit…NO! LEAVE IT!

I like how Gogol says 'My boy' like he now owns Chuckie or something. It's a great touch on his character don't cha think?

Review! Don't let me down readers!


	5. Hammers and Nails and Tazers, OH MY!

**BETA NOTES:**

Wow. Chuckie takes to going nutso like a duck to water almost. Pure, raw energy.  
This was great.

Better than most stupid horror movies without a decent plot to go by.

And Chuckie... I don't know... in some ways, it's bitter. You want him to be the hero, but it's not exactly justice he's bringing...

I loved the mention of the Irken's and the fact that Chuckie is starting to take more control... or is he being controlled? We shall see...

---------------------------  
**AUTHOR NOTES:**

Invader Sideos stands and begins to talk in a whiny version of your voice: Sooo. I think by now you're all itching to see Chuckie's first kill.

So, I'm gonna give it to you.

Yup. It's gonna be cheese-tastic and stupidly rubbish. But hey, you know you love it really. You are zombies to this fic! ZOMBIES I SAY!

Please don't kill me, I sold my friends soul to the devil so I would get more reviews...

Written to...anything I want! MUHAHAHAHA! Mostly Metallica - Battery. Or DragonForce cos they're so damn epic. Or Misfits. Or The Rolling Stones.  
Or any other band/song I have on my Media Player.  
--------------------

_"So, this Sideos-being's mind was so shattered, we couldn't even get a message through to him to recruit his services" _Gogol said cheerfully._ "It was like trying to phone someone while under a bridge. It just wasn't working." _

The night had slowly given way to the morning, and outside birds were singing, cars were driving, people were going about their lives. However deep within the confides of house number seven-seven-seven, something rather different was going on.

A pale, skinny seventeen year old with wild red hair was working on a machine that looked like a stock with a pair of large scissors placed threateningly near the part where the head would go. Sitting on a box of nails beside the boy was a black, red eyed cat plush. However, this cat toy could move, and talk and the two had been up all night, preparing for Monday.

Chuckie had been cleaning knives and, under the instructions of Gogol, the living toy cat, he had been rebuilding and repairing the torture machines in the lower dungeons of the house. Chuckie hadn't slept all night although he didn't feel tired. Gogol had explained that they could keep his sleeping at bay so he could be more efficient in his task.

"So," Chuckie began, while tightening a bolt on the machine, "There's a waste-lock for every living race in the universe?"  
_  
"Every race above a certain intelligence level,"_ Gogol nodded, _"It seems funny that a race that can build a civilization are also the most violent on their planets." _

Chuckie chuckled aloud, but didn't loose his concentration on his work, "These Irkens sound like a piece of work, hope they never come here."

Gogol smiled viciously, _"Actually one did come here. I think his name was-" _

Gogol was cut off as a sudden loud grumbling came from Chuckie's belly. Both of them looked at the teenager's stomach before Chuckie yawned and stood up. "Damn, I must have forgotten to have breakfast or something."

He scratched his arm and began walking out the room. Gogol hopped of the box and quickly asked, "_Where are you going?" _

Chuckie turned his head as he continued to walk up the stairs, "To get something to eat."

Gogol padded after him as the boy walked into the main room. _"Have you got any money?"  
_  
The teenager shrugged, "Enough, I think."

Gogol hopped up onto the couch and watched as the boy checked his bag for cash. It tilted its head slightly, _"Do you want to take a weapon, you know, just in case?" _

Chuckie froze. "Erm...I don't know. I suppose."

While Chuckie had finally agreed to co-operate with Gogol, he still had yet to kill someone. Last night the idea had seemed easy, exciting even, but now as reality came creeping back into the situation he was unsure of it.

Gogol could tell that and it narrowed its eyes at the boy,_ "You're not having second thoughts are you?"  
_  
"No, no," Chuckie quickly said, waving his hands and grinning nervously. "It's just that...well...you know. I've never killed anyone before."

Gogol smiled warmly, which didn't suit the cat at all._ "Don't worry, you'll be fine. You'll find it will come almost naturally, you are after all a waste-lock."_

Chuckie nodded and walked into the bedroom with his bag. There, lying harmlessly on his drawer, were the blades that Gogol had given him. Chuckie picked one up, inspecting it. It was flawless, the blade winked as it caught a flash of light coming from the main room.

He grinned. With these by his side, his first kill should be easy. Slowly, carefully not to rip any of his bag, he placed the knives in his backpack. He then walked back into the living room, hoisting the bag onto his shoulder. Just as he was about to walk out, he stopped, looked surprised and turned around.

Gogol watched as the boy ran into the torture chambers only to emerge a minute later with a taser in his hand.

Chuckie waved the device at Gogol as he walked swiftly to the door, "Almost forgot this." He then shoved it into his backpack.

He opened the door and rubbed his eyes. Even though the sky was a terrible looking gray color Chuckie still had to squint as his eyes adjusted to natural light.

The wind was biting, harsh almost, and as the teenager walked down the road he wished that he had brought that trench coat he spotted in the lower levels. He hugged his arms tight and tried not to let his teeth chatter. He could feel the damp air against his skin, which made it all the more cold. He shivered and walked quickly on. He had passed a twenty-four seven yesterday and so that was his direction.

As he walked his mind drifted to his former friends and family. He wondered what they would be doing right now, probably watching day-time TV or some other rubbish menial task. All he could think about was how they had turned their backs on him, pushed him away. Forced him into isolation. As he did so he could feel the rage bubble inside him and his hands closed into fists.

A couple walked past laughing. Chuckie had no idea what they were laughing at, but a large part of him believed they were laughing at him. He reminded himself that the two of them were far too big for him to carry back to his house and so he forced himself to carry on.  
_  
'Damn these people,'_ He thought, _'They all deserve to die.' _

A smiled itched at the corner of his mouth. At one time he would have never thought such a thing; he would have even been scared of thinking about hurting a fly.

_'Funny how time changes people.'_ He thought as he kicked a stray can from his path.

He rounded the corner and jogged across the road into the twenty-four seven. As he walked in he shivered as a blast of heat washed over him, he loved it when you could come in from the cold and a big wave of heat washed over you.

He walked past the cashier with a satisfied smile on his face. As he browsed the shelves of the store he barely noticed the swish of the automated doors as someone else walked into the shop. However, he did notice them when they started speaking.

He winced as a nasally, snooty and annoying voice of a girl pierced the air. "Hey, you, loser on the till, I want some cigarettes and a bottle of wine."

Chuckie turned around slowly to get a look at this horrid sounding individual. She was a typical prissy popular girl. Bleach blond hair, stick thin figure and the latest fashionable clothes from whatever store they sell them. A pair of tight blue denim jeans and a pink top. She had pretty looks, but it was clear that this was not the same for her personality.

Chuckie immediately recognized her. She was one of those that hung around Angelica and the popular crew. He had seen her laugh at him and call him names with the others. Rage exploded within him, he could feel it rushing through his body. Coursing through his veins like electricity.

This was pure raw power. It pounded in his ears, in his heart and all of his body. Suddenly, his backpack felt heavy and he remembered what was in there.  
The man at the till, who was your typical twenty year old Mexican bored-with-his-job type, glared at her but kept his cool. "Do you have I.D for that?"

"Pff, no," She sneered at him, "But I've got money, and I must be richer then you, so you'll get it for me or you'll starve for the week."

The cashier crossed his arms, "I'm sorry but without I.D I can't serve you for alcohol."

She slammed her hands down on the desk, "Hey, faggot, I said I WANT some wine and that means you HAVE to get it for me."

He leaned back and laughed, "No way girly."

Chuckie, who was watching the whole thing silently, had to hold back a cruel laugh. He watched as the girl fumed and suddenly he remembered he had a taser in his bag.

The girl yelled some more about getting the man fired and letting him know that he had ruined her social life before storming out the shop.

Chuckie quickly followed, forgetting his hunger.

She was about half way down the road, muttering slightly racist remarks about the convenience store clerk when she felt someone tap her shoulder.

She turned around to see Chuckie standing, grinning like a wolf high on blood, looking into her eyes.

She felt the creeping chill of fear run across her back but she re-grained her composure and attitude. "What do you want, freak?"

Chuckie took great measure not to attack her right there. "Are you sleepy?"

The girl tossed her hair to one side, "What? What kinda-" She didn't get to finish because she suddenly found herself being shocked by a taser that the red hair boy had looked like he'd produced from nowhere.

She fell onto the floor in a crumpled, unconscious heap. Chuckie sighed and put his taser back into his bag. "Damn, I could've come up with something better then that...ahh well."

He picked the girl up off the floor and began dragging her back to his new house. He never encountered anyone along the way.

--

Chuckie clipped the last of the restraints onto the girl's wrist and took a step back to admire his work. He had decided to simply strap the obnoxious girl against a wall. There was no way she could escape, her wrists and ankles were strapped, spread-eagled against the wall.

He walked back into the shadows, as the only light in the room was the one over the top of her head. Quietly he sat down and looked at his unconscious prize. He felt something move to the left of him but he didn't bother to look.

There was a cold silence, one where only the sounds of insects crawling and the house creaking could be heard. This silence was occasionally broken by a soft moan from the girl held up against the wall.

_"She called you names or something?"_ Gogol's dark voice drifted up from where he was sitting next to him.

Chuckie looked down at the toy cat, but with the darkness surrounding them he could only make out Gogol's red eyes.

He looked back to the still unconscious girl. "She is only one of many."

Gogol nodded. Silence again descended on the room, however this time it was heavy. Chuckie wanted to speak, but he couldn't, he was afraid of what Gogol's reaction would be.

Gogol seemed to sense this nervousness within the boy. _"What is it?" _

Chuckie looked down, "I'm...scared."

_"Scared?" _

Chuckie looked up again; he didn't want to make eye contact with the toy cat. His glasses flashed in the darkness. "Yes. I've never...done anything like this before. I mean, until yesterday I had never even hurt anyone before, never mind thrown my step-sister to the floor."

Gogol chuckled, _"Don't worry, all the waste-locks...well...most of the waste-locks were like this before their first kills." _

Chuckie looked at the toy cat slightly relived at this information. "Really?"

_"Yep," _Gogol said, _"Believe me, the moment that girl wakes up, you're going to realize exactly why you want to do this." _

"I hope," Chuckie whispered as the girls eyes fluttered open.

She groaned and looked around groggily. "Where...where am I?"

Chuckie stiffened as fear kicked in. He didn't know what he was meant to do now, so he just sat quietly in the darkness observing the girl.

She tried to move but was instead brought to the attention of her restraints. "What the? Oh man...I bet this is some loser's idea of a joke. They better show up soon so I can kick their faggot asses."

Gogol was right; Chuckie did suddenly remember why he was doing this.

Chuckie stood up quietly, but not too quietly as to not make any noise. The girl's eyes darted to where the noise came from. "Who's that? Who's there? Come out and show yourself you coward, I need to kick your head in before nine so I get home in time to watch Trisha."

Chuckie said nothing as he walked over to the back of the room. There, in the darkness, was a table with a large collection of knives and other equipment he may want to use on the girl.

Chuckie looked over the instruments, looking for the one that would serve his idea the most. Finally he picked up a hammer and a bunch of nails.

He turned around and began to walk, slowly, towards the girl, who was still glaring angrily around the room.

"Tell me," He said slowly and as spookily as he could, "Do we know each other?"

"What?" The girl answered looking towards the direction of Chuckie's voice, "I don't think so. I wouldn't hang around with freaks like you."

Chuckie stood just outside the light, toying with the hammer. "Well, if we don't know each other, what the HELL gives you the right to insult me?"

She snorted, "The fact you're probably less popular then me for one."

Chuckie stepped slowly into the light, a dangerous light dancing in his eyes. He grinned as the girls eyes fell on the hammer in his left hand and the nails in his right.

"W-what are you gonna do with them...?"

"What? These?" Chuckie held the tools-turned-weapons up to the sides of his head. "Oh, I'm just gonna show you the pain you've inflicted on me and probably a good many others. Of course this will be excruciating physical pain and not quiet emotional pain, which of course will be the main difference here."

She began panicking and trying to get out of her restraints. "Please...don't kill me...I'm too popular."

Chuckie raised the hammer and prepared a nail in his hand. All the time a sick grin plastered on his face and an evil look entering his eyes. "Oh, don't worry, you can go. Just as soon as I've finished something."

She didn't have time to react as Chuckie placed a nail over one of her hands and smashed the hammer down onto it. The nail quickly punctured the skin and drove itself firmly into the wall. Blood exploded out around the nail and splattered across Chuckie face and top.

He grimaced and stepped back as the girl screamed in pain.

"Hey, do you mind, I'm working here." He said as calmly as he could without bursting into laughter. Chuckie couldn't remember the last time he felt so happy, so fulfilled. He eagerly stepped over to the other side of the girl and prepped another nail on her right hand. "Please…" The girl said though tears and pain, "Please…stop."

"STOP?" Chuckie shouted into her face, "Did YOU stop when you threw food at me last month? Did YOU stop when your boyfriend tried to stuff me in a locker two weeks ago? Did YOU stop when you and your friend tripped me up and LAUGHED at me on Friday? NO, I DON'T THINK SO."

Chuckie roared and smashed a nail into her right palm, this one going much deeper then the other one. He felt a rush go though him, something he hadn't felt in too long. Pure satisfaction. A huge burst of adrenalin coursed through his body, insanity danced in his eyes and he could take the sweet iron of blood in the air.

His hand gripped the handle of the hammer tightly and grinned as the girls screaming filled the room. Never had he enjoyed such a sound as much as he enjoyed that scream.

As the blood flowed from her hands and onto the floor, Chuckie kneeled down and repeated the actions onto her shins. They where surprisingly much harder to puncture, but with a few good blows of the hammer, Chuckie made sure that her leg was now connected to the wall.

The boy couldn't stop grinning. He was finally making his dreams reality. No longer were they just images in his mind, they were real. The feel of warm, wet blood. The screaming of the fearful. The rush of power that he felt as he heard the metal of the nail splinter the bone in her leg.

It was all coming true, just as he was promised.

He began laughing. He laughed until he was drowning out the screams. The girl stopped sobbing as fear entered her eyes. She looked at the laughing, murderously insane, teenager as he slowly stopped.

He smiled a smile that seemed to big for his face. "Well, like I said, you can go now."

She tried to sink into the walls as he undid the restraints on her arms and legs. Then he stepped back as she screamed in pain, now that the restraints where no longer holding her up the nails where the only things holding her to the wall.

Chuckie put on a mock-care face, "What's the matter? Don't want to leave? Well, in that case we can continue having fun."

He dropped the nails onto the floor and began smacking the hammer into his right hand menacingly. His expression turned to one of a furious anger and his eyes darkened.

"Well, fun for me anyway."

Her face was paling from the intense pain and loss of blood and Chuckie realized that he may soon lose his audience to unconsciousness. So he decided to end the session.

He slowly raised the hammer up behind his head and growled at the girl. "You deserve this," And he swung it into her face.

Blood exploded everywhere; gore covered the teenager as the hammer crushed the girl's skull with a loud and satisfying crack. It reminded Chuckie of when someone bites into an apple.

He stood; looking at the body of the girl he had nailed to a wall then proceeded to smash her face in with a hammer. He was shocked. Had he really just done that to someone?

The rush of rage and murderous insanity was quickly fading. It left a hole within him. A need almost, a hunger for death.

He turned to look at Gogol, whose red eyes betrayed him from the depths of the shadows.

"I want to do that again…"

Gogol nodded with a laughter within his voice. _"Don't worry, just feed the mirror and you can do whatever you want."  
_  
Chuckie nodded and grinned while looking back to his victim. This life wasn't looking so bad after all.

As he walked out the room he couldn't help but think, _'I can't wait for school tomorrow.'_

--------------------  
WOOOOPA!  
This is FINALLY done. It took me SO (lots of swearing) LONG you would cry if you knew. Sanoon knows cos I kept moaning to him about how long it was taking me.

Anyways, it's done and with some cool results. By the way, I chose some unnamed girl as I didn't want to kill off any main characters…yet…

So, read, review, and be merry!


	6. Manic Mondays

BETA NOTES:

Awesome detail at the end with the cat blanketing them out. It's so spooky.

"...I couldn't say 'No Tommy' or 'I don't like that idea Tommy' or 'Hey, what about doing this my way Tommy?' No, it was your way or no way at all."

With this line, it seems kinda funny. Chuckie seems to always speak up, it just never gets listened to. In fact, "I don't think that's a good idea" is somewhat his catchphrase on the show...

You were right. It is an AWESOME chapter. It was worth the wait. I'm afraid of what's going to happen to Kimi and Tommy now. Don't trust him, guys!!!!

AUTHOR NOTES:

Invader Sideos jumps out of the tiny FedEx box, defying the laws of physics in the process, and tells you: SO SORRY!  
I'm so sorry this took so long...but, well, things happened. Computer breaking related things. Losing chapters and re-writing this one chapter over 3 different times kinda things.

Deep breath OK, so, here we go...again.

BTW, if anyone wants a copy of the 2nd version of chapter 6, then just tell me and I'll send em a copy.

OK, FORWARD MARCH!

Written to Metallica, Slayer and...ermm...Leslie Gore - Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows! YAY!

I own nothing. Poor me.  
--------------------

The morning was fresh, new, and damp. Rain from the night before had come down hard on the gray and run down street. But in a strange way, the rain lifted the gloom off the street.  
It seemed to make every surface shine and glitter in the morning sun. The water cleaned away the dirt and the grime on the houses, not as to leave them totally looking new, but enough to mask some of the neglect the buildings had taken over the years.

A few cars rolled down the street, a small homeless dog trotted along sniffing at the bins looking for food, a cat made its way under a parked car to get out of the damp and a few birds sang in the trees.

Yet, despite these small signs of life, there was still... something swimming in the air. Almost as though these things were purposely happening to keep a masquerade on the road. To make it seem normal.

And this feeling all emanated from one place, one dilapidated looking house. The house stood out from all the others due to its much accelerated ruined state, but also, it seemed like this house fitted in all the same. Like it had always been there, and always will.

This house, despite its almost destroyed state, was not however empty.

Life exists on all corners of the planet, and the house was no exception. However, death also lurked in this house.

Pain. Suffering. Horror.

The dark of the endless depths, corridors and rooms. Screams that echo down here, in these deep, dark tunnels.

All this, all this horror and pain, had been going on for years. How many years no one will probably ever know, but right now the deaths in this underground torture house were being directed by one boy.

A tall, stick thin teenager with wild red hair, sickly pale skin and dark eyes. The teenager hadn't slept in over two days, but that didn't seem to be stopping his work. During the evening he had began, getting more people to practice his methods on.

Needless to say, the boy was now quite familiar in the ways of murder and torture. Of course, the boy was not without a guide in this grisly new obsession. All the time he had one voice guiding him, teaching him the correct ways to take his revenge on humanity. This voice came from a small, black cat toy which had a pair of piercing blood red eyes. This demonized toy had been the devil on his shoulder, his link with the house, and with the being that lived within the mirror.

This... thing had bestowed upon the teenager the power to take his revenge upon the world, under the condition that he fed it with human blood.  
A price the teenager was more than willing to pay.

Right now the boy was improving on this deal. In one of the darkest, deepest rooms of the house, he was nailing pieces of glass to a wall. Normally if one tried to nail glass to a wall the glass would break. But this glass was holding a creature not of this dimension, so the normal rules of nature didn't apply.

"There," The boy panted as he hammered in the finish shard of glass, "Done."

The wall looked like it was once covered in a large mirror, but parts had randomly fell off, leaving only a collection of pieces left. The whole effect was creepy and unnerving, especially since the glass gave no reflection. It only showed a huge black mist, swirling slowly and intricately.

The small cat toy walked up beside him, sitting down and cocking its head at the wall._ "Good work Chuckie my boy." _

Chuckie smiled, "Thanks."

There was a moment of silence as they looked at the wall before the cat suddenly asked, _"Got any plans for today?" _

The smiled turned into a low, evil chuckle. "School."

Gogol smiled also, showing a row of razor sharp teeth.

--

The rain came down hard outside the dinning hall. The sky was black with clouds, the ground flowed with water and the windows were clawed with streaks of drips of the rain and fogged slightly with condensation.

Inside the hall was warm and busy with students talking, laughing and generally being normal. No one was paying attention to the outside, so no one noticed a dark figure appear at the entrance to the school gates. It was almost like he had materialized out the rain itself, a creature of the very darkness that seemed to be growing around the High School.

The being moved quickly, but silently towards the hall; making sure to keep within the shadows, however, it would take someone with sharp eyes to see him anyway through the heavy rain and darkness of the overcast clouds.

Inside the pupils carried on regardless, the vast majority of them too caught up in their petty matters to notice the way the rain suddenly seemed to be coming down harder, or the way shadows seemed slightly deeper.

Kimi was sitting in on the furthest corner table need the door. The teenager was staring at the table at her food, which remained untouched.

Her black hair looked unwashed and barely combed and her eyes where dark with lack of proper sleep. Next to her, her boyfriend, Tommy, looked equally worn out. The pair of them sat alone at the table, as they had been silently, but quickly, isolated from the rest of the student body.

They had been friends with the runaway, the freak, Chuckie. In older times, rumors may have not have spread so fast, especially since it had been the weekend.

However, this was the age where everyone had a cell phone because it was cool to own one. It only took a few hours for rumors to spread, or really, the truth to spread and twist and become so contaminated until it was a lie. But in High School, sometimes lies become so widely believed that they become truth, and the truth is then little more than just a lie.

At last count, Chuckie had tried to pull a gun on Kimi and even shot at Tommy before stealing the money from the cash register and running off.

To put it lightly for the two, things were bad. Kimi was totally out of hope, her brother was gone and she had lost almost all of her so-called friends. Under the table she felt a hand slowly close around hers and she looked to Tommy.  
He smiled weakly, "It'll be OK, I'm sure it will."

She smiled, at least she still had Tommy, he never gave up hope on anything, even in a situation as grave as this. She squeezed his hand, that's why she chose him, she inwardly supposed. Because he not only never gave up hope but he gave everyone else hope as well.

A sudden movement at the window caught her eye and she looked away from Tommy's eyes. It was a cat. A black cat. And it seemed to be licking its arm with its eyes closed. Strange thing for a cat to do in the rain.

Her eyes narrowed, she was sure she'd seen that cat before. Tommy noticed her look and followed her eyes.

He chuckled, "Weird. Why is that kitten licking itself in the rain?"

Kimi didn't answer, that cat looked so familiar...

Suddenly the cat opened its eyes and the two gasped in shock. The cats eyes were red, all red. It seemed to notice them looking at it and it smiled slowly, showing a row of razor sharp teeth.

Tommy suddenly felt a horrible chill run down his spine, as did Kimi. He suddenly noticed how hard it was raining, how dark it really was outside, how deep the shadows had become.

For a moment that seemed longer then it really was, the world went into slow motion, the sound faded away, and only the couples' fear remained.

Something was about to happen... something unnatural.

The world came crashing back into motion with a bang. The bang of two doors being smashed open to be exact. And out of the black rain, came Chuckie. He was still dressed in the black and white clothes he had been wearing since Kimi last saw him, but now he was also wearing a black, slightly tattered, trench coat and on his back was his backpack, it looked oddly heavy. Kimi would have normally jumped up to run, to hug her older brother, to make sure he's all right. But she didn't, because that wasn't her brother. He looked, in every way, like Chuckie...but that was not Chuckie.

His smile was far too sinister, his eyes too dark and twisted, his hair too wild. This was a demon in Chuckie's skin.

The room went instantly quiet and all eyes fell on the soaking wet, dangerous looking teenager. Chuckie walked forward, jumping effortlessly onto a nearby table. He spread his arms wide and smiled down upon his rapt audience of soon-to-be victims.

"Ladies and gentlemen! I know that lately you may have heard about my little tantrum I had in my dad's cafe, and no doubt you've probably heard the twisted lie of the high school rumor. However, what I am about to do will probably live as a legend, rather then rumor, in the minds of people for years to come."

Suddenly he was in the crowd, a knife in hand, plunging it into the neck of a jock.

As he withdrew the knife he screamed, "You stuffed me in a locker once!"

It took less than a second for people to start running and even less than that for the air to be filled with screams of shock, fear and pain.

Kimi was frozen, her brother had just stabbed someone through the throat and yet, she couldn't believe it. It was like she was watching some horrible live show, except, she wasn't in the crowd or safe at home on a couch. She was in the show. She was part of it. And that meant that all this was actually happening.

She watched as Chuckie swung the knife around, slicing into people's chests, cutting off arms, legs, heads, all the while screaming a crime at each victim, all the while a sadistic glee apparent in his voice and in his eyes.

A strong, almost painful grip on her shoulder brought her back from her shock. She was pulled to the floor and under the table by Tommy, who told her to stay there while he tried to stop Chuckie.

She grabbed him by the arm. "NO! Don't go, I don't want you to get hurt."

Tommy gave her that look which he seemed to have had since he was born. The one that let her know that he was going to be OK, he was always OK. "Don't worry; I'm sure Chuckie won't hurt me. I'm his best friend for God's sake."

She pulled him close, giving him a long, deep, kiss on the lips. When she had finished she let him go and whispered, "Please be OK."

Tommy smiled but said nothing. Inside he felt like he was going to be sick. The smell of blood was in the air and on his tongue. He steeled himself and crawled out from under the table.

Chuckie seemed to have finished with his slaying and was taking a breather. He drank some coke out of a random can before crushing it in his hand and tossing it onto a body.

He sneered down at the corpse. "Bet you wish you hadn't stolen my coke now eh? Bastard."

"Chuckie?" Tommy's voice came from the side of him, and Chuckie wield around, bloody knife in hand.

Tommy stood, easily out of reach of the knife, his palms held forward in a sign of peace. "Chuckie, its just me OK?"

Chuckie let a twisted smiled from on his face. "Well, well, well... if it isn't my best friend."

Tommy advanced a step. "Chuckie, can you put the knife down, please?"

Chuckie smiled more then shook his head, laughing slightly. He looked down then back up to Tommy while running a black gloved finger down the red knife blade. "You know Tommy; I've learned something in the last two days. I've learned that I don't have to take shit from anyone, anymore."

Tommy stopped in his advance. "Chuckie... please, I beg you man, put the knife down."

Chuckie's smile vanished. Instead it became an angry scowl. "Why? Does it scare you? Does it scare you to know that I have power? That I can fight back?"

"No, I mean, yes, I mean... look." He sighed, "Please, just put it down."

Chuckie's eyes twitched and narrowed. His head tilted slightly. "I've taken orders from you since I can remember. I always accepted your plan, your ideas, your views. I never had a choice before did I? I couldn't say 'No Tommy' or 'I don't like that idea Tommy' or 'Hey, what about doing this my way Tommy?' No, it was your way or no way at all." He started grinning again, "Well guess what? Were gonna do this my way."

Tommy wanted to throw up. He wanted to run away, back to Kimi or back to his house. He wanted Chuckie to throw the weapon down and suddenly proclaim this was all a joke. A TV show stunt and he'd fallen for it. He wanted everyone lying lifeless on the floor to stand up, to laugh, to actually still be alive.

But this was reality, not a TV show, and Chuckie had gone murderously insane. Those people were dead and it looked like he was going to be next.

Tears began falling down Tommy's face. "Please, Chuckie, please don't do this. You don't have to do this."

Chuckie laughed quietly and sadistically at Tommy's fear. "Don't worry old friend, you aren't going to die." Tommy's eyes widened, Chuckie bowed his head slightly, "And neither is my dear sister, who I can see under the table over there."

Hearing this Kimi gasped in shock. She slowly crawled out and stood, shakily, to her feet.

Chuckie looked at her, "Come on, come over here Kimi, I wanna talk to you too."

Kimi didn't know how she managed to walk over to Tommy without collapsing, but she did. Once she was close enough she clung to Tommy's arm. "OK,  
I'm here, what'd you wanna talk about."

Chuckie played with the knife and leaned against a table. "Oh, lets not talk here..." he looked up, a dangerous light dancing in his eyes, "Let's talk at my place, with the rest of the gang."

Before either of the two frightened teens could say anything they heard a soft pat of a paw hitting water. They turned their heads to see the same black cat who had first alerted them to the horror they had witnessed. The cat looked at them, smiled that sharp grin, and then jumped towards them. It expanded its body like a blanket and the two blacked out as it embraced them.

--------------------  
WOO!  
That was SHIT HOT!  
Sooooo much better then the first version. Chuckie is so much more hardcore in this, it kicks ass it does. I even bet, when not being viewed, this chapter goes and finds other fics and kicks their asses because it's so hardcore.  
Yup...

Anyways, R&R...or this chapter will come and kick ya ass!


	7. Escape from Hell

**BETA NOTES:**

I cringed at this. Not the gore. That was AWESOME!!! But the swearing was a little excessive for me...

But bravo! Very well done. Tommy, Angelica, Phil... all in one chapter.

Chuckie's on a roll, I dare say. :D

Maybe next he can get the principal, teachers... the parents... ohhhhh...

Kimi had better save the day and get Chuckie put where he belongs... in a lunatic asylum.I very much enjoyed (you're too harsh on yourself).

----------------

In Invader Sideos we trust. And if you really do trust me, then you're crazier then I am. I seemed to have abandoned my usual intro approach. I wonder why...

Anyways, I just got through eating a big greasy cheese burger...and it was DAMN tasty. You know that feeling? When you eat something that you've seen people on TV talk shows and healthy food adverts tell you not to eat.  
I like to call it 'Defiant satisfaction'. It's a damn good feeling I can tell ya that.

This is the last chapter. No more after this. It's confusing to think about. A fic with the hugely surprising popularity it has (especially to me) is being ended on its 7th chapter. If I continued this up to say...the 10th chapter, it would have over 100 reviews, a certified super success. Yet, it's being ended now.  
I'm cruel.  
But then again...do you trust me?

Some peeps drew to my attention that 'Gogol' means idiot in French. Well, 'Finster' means dark in German. How fitting, is it not?

Written to...hum...I dunno. Random songs, mostly the Misfits, Metallica, Pantera, Slayer, System of a Down, Gogol Bordello, Gorrilaz, G.G. Allin, Dragonforce, Disturbed, Bad Manners, The Adicts and Alabama 3. Not very random really ha-ha.

I own nothing. Warning, this chapter is extremely long.  
--------------------

The first thing Tommy's senses picked up on as he came around was the smell.

_Death._

He hadn't even opened his eyes but he knew it was there. He also knew he was hanging by his wrists to a cold concrete wall. The wrist-straps seemed to be leather, or at least they felt that way. His feet also felt the same feeling of being tied tightly together to the wall. He shivered out of cold and fear. His eyes opened slowly, first expecting to be in some bright place, but in actual fact he had to concentrate for a second as they adjusted to the dark gloom around him.

There was nothing in the room, literally nothing.

Three gray, concrete walls surrounded him and, apart from the metal pipes that he was attached to, there was nothing else on the walls.

However, the room itself was covered in large dark patches that stained the old wooden floor and patented the walls with lines and splats. Tommy didn't try to think about those for too long, they made him feel sick. At the very end of the room was what looked to be a corridor out of the room, but the corridor was so dark Tommy couldn't see down it.

He listened for any noises...but there was only silence. A deathly silence, like one would find in a graveyard or on a battlefield when the fighting was finished.

There were no mice, no rats. Tommy could make out one or two cockroaches scuttle across the floor. For some reason, this made him feel ever so slightly better; at least some life existed here.

Suddenly, there was a soft groan from beside him and he turned his head. A look of relief crossed his face as he saw Kimi, also similarly trapped against the wall.  
Her eyes flickered open, and her breathing became ragged as she began to panic at the sight her surroundings.

Tommy called out to her, "Kimi! Kimi, it's OK, I'm here, its OK."

Kimi looked to Tommy and breathed a worried sigh of relief. "Tommy? Thank God...where are we? What happened? Was all that stuff real?"Tommy looked around the room. "I...I...I think we're in some basement of some sort. I dunno...I'm sorry, I know I'm not being very useful."

Kimi smiled wearily, "No, it's OK, there not much we can really do."

Tommy shook his head. "No, no we've get to get out of here. I'm not letting anything happen to you or the others."

Kimi smiled more warmly this time, there was that amazing thing Tommy had again. That wonderful ability to never give up, that ability to inspire hope in people. Even in a situation as grim as this.

Tommy grimaced and tried to move, pulling on the straps on his hands and feet. The straps connected to a metal chain which was pulled tight around a metal pipe above them. Kimi watched out of a mixture of hope, despair and wonder at whether he really could get free.

The straps were tight on the teen's wrists and ankles and he was well and truly stuck to them. However, as he realized this, he also realized that if he gave up, then Kimi would lose hope, and he couldn't let that happen.

He clenched his fists and threw his arms forward against the restraints. The leather began to dig into his skin, rubbing harshly against it and burning it. But Tommy pushed more, screwing his face up as he did. He suddenly heard a small tearing sound and he stopped pulling.

Kimi jumped as she heard it and her heart began to beat faster. It had torn, the leather had torn, just where the chain connected to the straps. Tommy turned to his girlfriend his eyes widening and a manic smile growing on his face. Kimi would have jumped for joy had she not been strapped down.

Tommy gathered his strength and pulled again, straining all his muscles as he did. The leather began to cut into his skin and a small line of blood collected along the edge of the leather. A drop fell onto the floor soundlessly. Kimi began cheering Tommy on, shouting out encouragements and such. While Tommy wasn't complaining, he wished she'd be quiet and let him concentrate on his task.

The pain was starting to get up him, and his wrists felt like they where on fire from the leather rubbing against his skin. But he knew he was close, he could feel it.

"Almost..." Tommy growled through gritted teeth.

**SNAP. **

Tommy fell forward like a shot as the restraints finally gave way. However, his found that his legs where still strapped down, something he'd momentarily forgotten about, so he ended up slamming into the floor. His hands slapped down hard onto the wood and his turned his head just in time as the side of his face smacked the floor.

He yelped loudly in pain, now his face and his wrist and his hands hurt.

"What a day..." He muttered as he moved himself around so he could undo his ankle straps. Something that also caused him pain as he twisted his body in a way it wasn't meant to twist.

Meanwhile Kimi silently adored Tommy for his bravery. She never doubted him for a second. This was her boyfriend, and she had never been so proud of this fact.

Tommy finally got the restraints off, and his feet fell to the floor. He sat up and massaged his aching ankles. As he did he caught sight of his wrists and his eyes widened. The leather had rubbed along his skin, breaking it and cutting into it. He was bleeding, but nothing bad, he'd probably have a visible scar or something when it healed, through.

He clenched his fist and steeled himself. Now wasn't the time to be worrying about cuts and bruises, he had to get himself, Kimi and whoever else he could find out of this place alive.

He got up and began to undo Kimi's ankle restraints. "Don't worry, I'm gonna get us out of here, OK?"

In a matter of minutes Kimi was free. She fell from the wall into Tommy's arms, burying her face into his chest and crying in a mixture of joy and horror. She knew that the chances were high that her friends were already dead, and escape from this place was minimal.

But she had to show Tommy she wasn't afraid. If he believed he could escape, then she believed it too.

Tommy held her close, comforting her. He wanted to cry as well, but he couldn't show weakness. Not because he wanted to seem like some kind of superhero, but because he didn't want to make the situation seem more hopeless then it already was.  
He pushed her away from him softly and looked into her blurry eyes. "Kimi, I don't know what's going on here, but whatever happens, I love you."

Kimi placed her hands around his neck, embracing him in a deep kiss before whispering into his ear. "I love you too."

This tragically romantic moment was broken when the sudden sound of a scream and the sound of something metal smashing together echoed down the corridors. Tommy looked towards the door, panic in his eyes.

Kimi did the same, but she grabbed Tommy's hand tight. As the sounded faded into the shadows Kimi horridly whispered, "What was that?"

"I don't know," Tommy said without looking at her, "And I don't really want to find out. Come on, let's go."

Hand in hand they ran out of the room and into the blackness of the corridors. At the end of the corridor was a staircase which was narrow and seemed to slant up at a furious pace. Looking up and down it, they guessed that they must be far underground, and by the looks of it the staircase went even lower.

Swiftly deciding not to find out how low it went, the pair began to climb up the staircase. Around them cockroaches and insects scuttled about and pipes moved in and out of the walls like snakes in grass.

The darkness around them seemed to swallow everything, and all the while both teens couldn't shake a feeling. A feeling like they where being watched. Like something that existed in the very shadows around them was watching them with omnipresent eyes, glaring at these mortal beings who dared to try and escape the hell it had created here, in the black depths of the earth.

The air was so cold that Kimi was shivering. Tommy was sure that if he blew hard enough he would be able to see his breath. The whole atmosphere seemed against them, deterring to slow their assent back to the real world.

Suddenly, out of the gloom, there was a light shining against a wall. Tommy pointed up at it, turning back to Kimi and placing a finger on his lips. She nodded in understanding and the two slowed their pace until they where moving along the cold, concrete walls. They paired around the corner to see a new corridor lit by a single, uncovered light. They could barely make out another room at the end of the infinitely creepy corridor.

Tommy turned to Kimi, looking at her with worried, concerned eyes. "There could be someone else down there...someone who needs our help. But so could..."

Kimi nodded, she could hear what Tommy was asking her. "I'm willing to take that risk, if he's down there, we'll face him together."

Tommy smiled, his girlfriend was so brave, and it comforted him that Kimi was willing to go wherever he went. Whatever they faced, they'd face it together, side by side.Together they moved slowly and silently down the corridor. But as they got closer to the darkened room at the end, they began to hear someone; someone moaning in muffled pain.

They entered the room, prepared for anything. Well...almost anything.  
Their eyes adapted to the darkness, and then, they realized what they were looking at. Kimi gasped in horror and turned away grabbing Tommy and burying her face in his arm.

Tommy didn't move. He felt like he was going to be sick.

It was Angelica. The teen was bound, blindfolded and gagged against a wall. She was being held up by knifes, one through each shoulder, one through each hand, one through each shin. The blindfold was wet, and so was the gag. Her hair was cut raggedly short and blood and bruises covered her entire body.

It dripped onto the floor with a horribly final _'plip'_ sound as it landed in the puddle of blood that had run down the walls and onto the floor around the girl.

On her forehead, written into her skin, was the single, simple word 'Bitch'.

Tommy couldn't move. His mind could only think about what Chuckie had done to Angelica's eyes and tongue. He didn't want to know, but it was all he could think about.

He tore his eyes away. Forced them shut. He swallowed back vomit. He grabbed Kimi and together they moved out the room without looking back. They realized that now that they couldn't help anyone. By now, they were all dead... or dying.

"I think...we should go." Tommy choked out.

Kimi just nodded. They began to leave again, faster then before. But now, they had a new reason to go. If Chuckie did that to Angelica, who knew what he would do to them now they were escaping?

With this new desperate fear pushing them on, Tommy and Kimi began to make much more ground then before. But both of them got the feeling that they were never getting out of this place. Every now and then they would pass a room, hearing the screaming pain of people they once knew, now just victims of an insane maniac.

They tried not to imagine what he had done to them; they closed their eyes every time they passed an opening from the never-ending staircase. Sometimes they could hear people down the black corridors screaming, or moaning. But it was worse when they couldn't hear anything.

_Death was everywhere. _

They soon came up to another opening, however, this time they stopped. From the darkness echoed a voice. Chuckie's voice.

He seemed to be talking with someone, although they couldn't make out the words.

Tommy stood, looking into the blackness with determined eyes. Kimi moved around him and tugged at his arm. "Come on, this is our chance to get out of here."

Tommy remained motionless, then, he uttered a single word. "No."

Kimi's eyes bugged. "What?"

Tommy looked to his girlfriend. "Look, I want to live, but I need to know something first. I need to ask Chuckie why. Why did he did all this, and if I don't ask him now, I'll never know."

Kimi nodded, "I...I understand."

Tommy lowered his head, but didn't take his eyes away from hers. "Then you know that you have to leave."

Kimi gasped. "No! I can't leave you here, especially with what Chuckie can do to you."

"I'm not afraid of Chuckie," Tommy lied, "But I am scared of him finding you. You must go, get out of here, get some help. I'll keep him here."

Tears fell down Kimi's cheeks. "Please...I can't lose you...I'm not that strong."

Tommy grabbed her both her hands with his and held them together like she was praying. He moved closer to her. "You are, and you must do this. If we don't stop him now who knows how many more he could kill?"

Kimi was silent, and then she nodded. "OK," she managed to choke out in response.

Tommy hugged her so tight she though she couldn't breathe, but that was alright as she hugged him back just as tight. The moment lasted longer than moments should, the sounds of echoing screaming seem to fade, and the darkness didn't seem so dark.

But when they let go, it all slowly seeped back.

Kimi slowly slipped from Tommy's hands, and with a final silent _'I love you'_ she vanished up into the darkness.

Tommy smiled up at where she had just been. When he got out of this place, he promised himself he would remind her how much she meant to him every day from then on.

He sighed and turned to look down the corridor. For now, he had a task to complete. He gathered his strength, ignored the sick feeling in his stomach and the reoccurring idea to flee as fast as he could, and he walked silently down the corridor.  
And there was Chuckie.

He was sitting, cross-legged, on a box with 'parts' written on the side of it. The box was against a wall, which he was leaning back against. Tommy hid, his back pressed against the wall with his head poking around the doorway, just enough so he could see the darkly clad red-head talking to his demonic cat, just enough so he could also see the wall, with the mirrors all over it like it some giant cracked window.

There was something behind the mirrors, a swirling gray mist...and it looked like something was moving behind it too, hiding just from view.

Blood covered the them, gathering in the gaps between the broken glass. Tommy tried hard not to recoil away at the smell of the wet blood.

Chuckie looked like he was also covered in gore, but he seemed to be in the process of wiping it off. Tommy realized that he was wiping his face on Phil's shirt; he could only guess what had become of Phil. Tommy again fought down the sick in his stomach and listened intensely.

"So," Chuckie said to the black cat who sat, tail swaying in front of the mirrored wall, "Tell me more about this Johnny C. guy, he was the only waste-lock to come back from servitude to your master?"

Tommy had to stop himself from jumping in horror when the cat actually spoke back. He never saw its mouth move, but its voice just seemed to emanate from it, it was dark, and it chilled him to the bone.  
_  
"Yes, quite an amazing feat. But apparently the guys who run this reality had something big in mind for the guy. I never worked with him of course, but I did watch from the sidelines so to speak." _

Chuckie nodded as he threw the shirt to one side and let a leg fall over the edge of the box.

Gogol continued. _"In fact, you're the first person I've worked with in over three hundred years. I opted to work with Dib or Todd, the last two waste-locks, but to be honest they failed quickly anyway. They weren't told everything from the first step and so they had problems about working for us." _

Chuckie frowned, "What do you mean 'not told everything'?"

Tommy's grip on the wall tightened when Gogol smiled, showing those predatory sharp teeth. 

"Well, the others kept back information which they thought could damage them, like who they where really working for, for instance. But I've told you everything, you only need to ask and I will give you the information you want my boy."

Chuckie chuckled. "I bet you have a great employee record don't you?"

Gogol just twitched its tail slight. _"Well, what do you wish to do now? You've got enough blood to feed our master for while, I didn't think you'd get so many in one go, and at such an early stage as well..." _He chuckled darkly,_ "You're a natural at this my boy." _

Chuckie grinned like he'd gotten an A on a test. Chuckie leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. He thought for a moment before saying. "Well...I suppose I should go deal with the love birds."

Tommy's blood ran cold; he looked away, back towards the end of the corridor as if checking that Kimi had gone before looking back to Chuckie who looked up at the ceiling. "Yep, it's gonna be a shame to lose them, but it has to be done I suppose."

Tommy's eyes hardened and he moved to step out of the shadows and into the doorway. "If you want to deal with me, I'm right here Chuckie." Tommy smiled; the tough guy attitude fueled his rage at his ex-best friend. His fists clenched and his eyes narrowed.

Chuckie and Gogol both jumped in surprise. Gogol jumped towards Tommy, standing in front of him with his back arched and his eyes narrowed into blood red slits.

Chuckie also jumped off his box, an angry scowl on his face, but also a trace of shock. He quickly moved to the center of the room. His eyes darted for a weapon.

Tommy noticed and he smirked. "What's the matter? Don't have a knife to threaten me with this time?"

Chuckie's scowl dropped and his eyes narrowed. "How did you get out? Where's Kimi?"

Tommy smiled angrily again. "That doesn't matter, what matters is that it's just you and me. And I want some God damn answers Chuckie."

Chuckie raised himself to full height and crossed his arms. A knowing, evil, smirk grew on his face. "Well, OK then. What do you want to talk about?"

Tommy's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

Chuckie lost his smirk, his face grew darker and he took a timed blink, like he was absorbing the one word question. He sighed. "You wouldn't understand Tommy..."  
His eyes closed and his voice grew quieter. "No one would."

Tommy, for a split second, felt some of his anger drop and a splinter of pity grow. But he quickly covered it up by raising his head higher. "Try me."

Chuckie's eyes snapped open. "Do you know what its like to exist where everyone puts you down? Demeans you? When you're bullied daily, when people beat up not to take money or food, but just because they know they can win? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THAT'S LIKE!" He screamed at the teenager.

Chuckie gritted his teeth and his left hand balled into a fist. His head dipped and his eyes narrowed slightly. "I lived in pain, constant, pain. No one talked to me, no one understood me and even if they had the chance to try no one ever did! It was like I was a virus that had an easy cure. Harmless, but still hated. I hated everyone for it."

Tommy breathed out through his nose and he also dipped his head. "Why didn't you ever talk to anyone about this? You could have come to me or Kimi or-"

"NO!" Chuckie snapped at him, "You and Kimi were so close that you never even paid attention to me! Everyone else hated me or treated me with that 'arm's length' attitude. What? Just because I wear these clothes and listen the music I like? You people couldn't accept me for me!"

Tommy growled. "You wanna know why people didn't talk to you? Because you holed yourself up, THAT'S WHY!"

Chuckie was shocked at Tommy's outburst.  
_  
Surely Tommy knew what he was now capable of?_

Chuckie's eyes twitched. "What?"

Tommy scowled. "You heard me. You complain about no one understanding you? Well that's because you refused to talk to anyone! You talk about being treated at arms length? That's because you wouldn't let anyone into your shitty little world that you built around yourself. You bottled up all your pain and refused to let anyone help!"

Chuckie hadn't been expecting this and it showed. "That's...that's a LIE! I didn't talk to anyone because No one would help me!"

"FUCK YOU!" Tommy suddenly shouted.

He began to storm towards Chuckie, his eyes filled with a sort of righteous anger. Gogol was so surprised at someone not being afraid of his waste-lock that he just let Tommy storm past him. Even the mirror fog seemed to twitch.

Tommy stormed right up to a very shocked Chuckie until they where only inches apart and he poked him hard on the chest. "YOU are full of SHIT."

"NO!" Chuckie shouted back, using his extra inches in height to there full effect.

"YOU ARE. You people are the ones who alienate those who are different, who put down the clever and calibrate IDIOCY. GOD DAMN PARIS HILTON!"

Tommy glared at Chuckie. "Yes, OK. I admit that the world is full of ass-holes who don't deserve to have the air they breathe, but you can just flip out and kill them all just because they pissed you off!"

Chuckie folded his arms and pouted. "Oh, I'm pretty sure I can, and anyway, it's my job now."

Tommy was taken back his eyes narrowed slightly. "What?"

Gogol suddenly snapped back into action and he ran, jumping up onto Chuckie's shoulders. _"Yes."_

Tommy couldn't stop a shiver at Gogol's voice.

_"It was Chuckie's choice to join us, and he's happy where he is now."_

Chuckie nodded as Gogol continued speaking for him._ "He's doing a vital service to the very fabric of reality. He's a civil servant to the forces of the universe; you wouldn't take him away from that would you?" _

Tommy went to say something, but Gogol smoothly interrupted him. _"I mean think about it, you take this away from him and A: My boy here is still a mass murderer, and B: The universe rips apart. You don't want that do you?"_

Tommy was aghast for an answer. The cat grinned, like a devil on Chuckie's right shoulder. _"So, now that you fully understand the complex situation we have here, why don't you leave, and leave my boy to his vital work."_

Tommy staggered a few steps backward as Chuckie dipped his head slightly and grinned evilly. "You heard the cat," Chuckie grinned, "Go. Away. Leave me to my work Tommy. You'll probably never see me again, so, have a good life...and try not to get in my way." The teen added a dark chuckle.

Tommy turned, and went to run. He needed to get away from this...insanity. This was not the real world, this was some fictional world. A world that Chuckie's insane mind had created and twisted.

It was infused with his new found cruelty, his hate, all the anger that he had kept stored within him had been released into his house, and it absorbed it like a sponge, flowing it back through and around him. Everything was infected with it, with this..._darkness._

Tommy needed out.

However, he had barley got to the end of the doorway when Chuckie called out to him. "Hey, Tommy."

The boy turned around. The sound of metal slicing deep into flesh was heard... and Tommy couldn't catch his breath as slowly, his mouth began to fill with blood.

It dribbled slightly down his mouth and he looked down. There was a huge twelve-inch knife sticking into his chest. He laughed and coughed at the same time, spraying droplets of blood into Chuckie's clean black top.

Tommy smiled as his eyes started to fade. He wondered why there was no pain at all. No feeling at all anymore.

He heard Chuckie's voice echo, "That's saying I was full of shit. Sorry old friend, but I needed to get you back somehow right?" And his laughed faded as Tommy felt himself falling backwards.

His eyes closed and he could see Kimi smiling at him. _'I love you Tommy.'_

Chuckie stood over his dead friend. And Gogol sat behind him, his red eyes narrowed slightly and his tail twitched. Chuckie knelt down to take the knife out, so he didn't see the fog twitch.

Gogol slowly whispered, _"Don't worry master, he passed all the tests, he's ours now..."_

--------------------  
Well that was a shitty ending.  
Seriously, that was just so...bad. CRAPOLA I SAY.  
I'm close to making another chapter just so I can cover up the HORROR that this PILE of CRAP is.  
I mean, the ideas I had are all in here, but they came out all wrong! And besides, I think I may not add another chapter, but an epilogue of some sort (I've developed a thing for pro and epilogues now).  
Actually…maybe one more chapter, then an epilogue…I wanna show you all how Tommy doesn't truly die…


	8. Same Faces, Changed World

**BETA NOTES:**

Eight pages! What are you trying to blind me?

Well, now it's 11 pages. Anyway… I like the plot holes, because the description is excellent and so easy to read.

Loved the slight hint at Adam's work (life, the universe, everything!) and that the two are finally reunited. I'm hoping for a… semi-happy ending. But you can surprise me!

--------------------

WELL! Sorry for the long wait chums but it seems this is the trend with this fic. Believe me, its COMPLETELY unintentional. I'm one of you guys, and just like you guys I know how piss-annoying it is when some asshole spends months updating a fic you love reading.

Even worse is when it's a crap-hole chapter with nothing important happening. EVEN MORE WORSE is when it's tiny!

Well, not here. Lots of important stuff happening, lot's of coolness, lots of words, eight pages of words in-fact.

After all, it's been four years since the last chapter…

Written to Black Sabbath – War Pigs, Pantera and System of a Down.

--------------------

_Another night. Another body. _

Chuckie blinked slowly behind his thick black rimmed glasses. Speckles of blood obscured his view, so he momentarily dropped the corpse to wipe his glasses on the neck of his black top.

He shook his head, trying to get his wild hair out of his eyes, and put his glasses back on.

He hadn't slept in weeks. He couldn't say how many, the days seemed to just merge together. Time is relative to the observer and to Chuckie, time passed slowly, especially at night. He spent so much time in the shadows of his home that he could hardly tell when it was night or day. Days would pass by without his notice, but Chuckie didn't care. It wasn't like he wanted to be part of the rest of the world anyway.

The grim, grey-black surroundings didn't bother him either; the way the walls were rotted and pealing and the dampness seeping into the corners of the concrete didn't faze him in the slightest. Shadows reigned where, in the normal world, light would have triumphed. All warmth, all feeling, all _life _even, had been ripped from this place. The wounds showed on the walls, dark stains on the bleak cracking plaster.

Rusting metal pipes, deep dying browns, painful infectious oranges; the only colors to show against the shadows that wrapped around them, the pipes snaked in and out of the walls, like veins of some great metal being whose corpse was the house itself.

As the newly dead, lay dying in the corpse of the long since deceased.

Or perhaps Chuckie had just thought too much into the description of his house whenever he tired to write. That was one of Chuckie's few other pastimes apart from murder. He tried to write whenever he could. He tired to describe what he did as a justification but it was useless. Sometimes he tried to draw something to express the feelings he wished he couldn't feel, but that never worked either.

Nothing worked. The only thing he could ever find himself doing was writing his comic, _'Krazy Kaffine Kid'_, it was really popular with the homeless insane, but even that was a really badly drawn stick-figure that made no sense.

The only thing that ever worked, if only temporarily, was the killing of those who he could direct his anger at. Like the woman he was dragging now.

The body of the thin, pretty female he had killed half an hour ago was a mess. Her chest had been ripped open; her legs had long, open gashes, as did her arms. Chuckie had been aiming for maximum gore and blood extraction. He had been lagging in his blood collecting lately. He couldn't say why, but he had felt so…tired lately.

The twenty-one year old sighed and took a hold of the woman's arms again. _'Not long now'_ He grimly thought as he carried on dragging the woman's body up towards his 'disposal' room. The room was filled with tubs of acid. He would throw bodies that could fit into them, letting the acid burn the bodies away to nothing.

Those that couldn't fit were buried in his front garden or in a near-by set of woods. He liked going to the woods. It was quiet there, no people around.

He sighed again as he finally propped the limp, dead weighted corpse against the tub.

He took one last look at her, brushing bangs of his own wild red hair away from his tired eyes. Her long blond hair, her delicate looks, her thin supermodels body. He couldn't even remember what he'd killed her for. Probably because he thought she looked like someone he should kill. He screwed his eyes up and scowled at himself.

"Damn memory…" That was another thing that had been getting Chuckie down lately, his memory. He couldn't remember anything of last year. Even memories from just a few months ago had begun to grow hazy around the edges. Was this a side-effect of his inability to sleep?

Chuckie ran a hand across his head. "Fuck…what the hell am I doing?"

He sighed again. Deciding to at least get rid of the woman before he once again went into his wonderings he lifted her up, pushing her over the side of the tub as she went sizzling into the deep red, almost black coloured acid.

Chuckie stood back; he couldn't stand the smell of an acid burned corpse. As he watched the vat bubble and dissolve the body he tilted his head, wondering what such a thing felt like. Then came another sigh, and he looked down at his metal-hoofed-toe boots. He would have to take another trip to the all night dry-cleaners again. His black pants were covered in blood, as was his long-sleeved black featureless top. His gloves would need washing too. He was wearing a horizontally striped black and white t-shirt over his long sleeved top and on a peg upstairs was a long black trench coat.

His skin was pale to the point of being grey. Large black rings surrounded his eyes from lack of sleep. He was thin…, anorexic thin. It had been three days since Chuckie last ate, and even then he only ever ate snack foods or filler meals, beans on toast, a packet of noodles, that sort of thing. Last time he weighed himself he was only a hundred and thirteen pounds, which kind of made him wonder where he got the strength to kill and drag bodies around from.

Chuckie turned and walked out the room, the metal on his boots clicking against the floor, the sound echoing down the empty halls. He faulted a moment, letting a cockroach scuttle past him before he began walking up the stairs. They creaked and croaked beneath him. A sound that he'd already tuned out in the long time he had lived in his place.

'_How long have I been here?'_ he though silently, _'How long have I been feeding the wall? When did all this start?'_

"_Now, now my boy,"_ Chuckie almost jumped as the demonic and creepy, yet all too familiar voice came drifting from the shadows, _"What's with the long face?"_

Chuckie turned around to see the small black toy cat walk out of the shadows. Its eyes glowed a deep blood red and when it spoke, its mouth never opened, but it grinned, showing a row of predator-like teeth.

Chuckie narrowed his eyes at the cat. "Go away Gogol, I'm not in the mood for you right now."

The cat just grinned wider. "_Oh? Having another blue Monday are we? These bouts of depression make me laugh Chuckie. You know you always come out of them in the end."_

Chuckie glared silently at the cat before turning his back on it and continuing up the stairs.

The cat followed behind him, the padding of its feet almost soundless on the wooden floor. It smiled more at Chuckie's silence. _"What's this one about then? Are you lonely? Have you been contemplating life, the universe and everything again?"_

"No." Chuckie said quietly as he continued his ascent up the staircase.

Gogol's red eyes narrowed at the young man. _"Well, what is it then?"_

Chuckie sighed. "It's…nothing. I just…want to remember why I'm doing this, that's all."

"_You're doing this because if you didn't reality would end."_ Gogol answered quickly. _"And besides, you **want** to do this."_

"Yea, suppose." Chuckie mumbled quietly to himself.

Gogol stopped and stared at Chuckie's back, his tail twitched dangerously. _"I don't like your tone of voice. Now, I'm going to go and report in, in the meantime you should go watch TV or torture someone."_

Chuckie turned and glared again at the toy, but said nothing. Instead he just hugged his arms across his chest, his hands gripping his thin upper-arms. He looked down, beat.

"Alright, then."

Gogol turned around, walking back into the darkness. _"Cheer up my boy. The faster you do the more efficiently you'll kill." _And with that, the daemon-toy vanished into the shadows of the base.

Chuckie looked on into the darkness to where Gogol had vanished. He sighed, and turned, walking back up the stairs again. He knew where he wanted to go. He didn't want to go watch TV or torture anyone. He wanted to talk to Tommy.

Gogol greatly disproved of Tommy on all grounds, 'nothing but an angry spirit with a hate for life' as the cat had called it.

Chuckie made his way to the top of the stairs, opening the door into his living room. He walked slowly across the room, ignoring the woodworm ridden desk where Tommy watched him from, and made his way to the boarded up windows. He looked through the gaps in the boards, looking up to the stars above in the clear sky.

"It's such a beautiful night…don't you think so Tommy?" Chuckie asked without turning around.

"_Yes. It's the kind of thing one would like to see before sleeping forever."_ The spirits voice drifted over to him from the shelf.

"I know." Chuckie sighed. He turned around to face Tommy.

Tommy was a dog. Well, he was a toy dog, about the same size as Gogol and most probably made by the same company. Chuckie couldn't remember how he'd found the toy, but he remembered decorating it. It had been originally been all white with black eyes, but Chuckie had used a marker pen and drawn spirals around the eyes and decorated its body with various arrows, skulls and typically gothic patterns like that. He wasn't sure when it had started speaking, but he knew it was only recently, in the last two years at most.

Tommy clamed to be a spirit of someone that Chuckie had once killed, but had not fed their blood to the wall, thus saving his spirit. The spirit had slowly re-gathered its strength and eventually inhabited the toy. Chuckie had asked the dog about what he was like before the murders, but the spirit couldn't remember, he could only remember being a spirit, nothing before.

Now he served as the rival of Gogol, but unlike the demonic cat, Tommy encouraged Chuckie to stop killing, and instead, end his own life. As far as Tommy could see, Chuckie was only causing more pain in the world by killing people, so by killing himself, he could stop all the pain.

Chuckie listened as the toy dog padded off the shelf and up to sit behind him.

"Why am I doing this?" Chuckie asked, still not turning around.

"_You're sick, ill, demented and insane." _Tommy said factually.

Chuckie glanced down at the dog. "So what? Kill myself? I can't die."

The dog narrowed his black eyes. _"Just keep trying; I'm sure there's got to be a loop-hole somewhere. Have you tried overdosing on aspirin? Or jumping off a building?"_

Chuckie shook his head. "There's no aspirin to overdose on, and I don't wanna jump of a building. Besides, killing myself would put a bit of a halt on my search for answers."

"_Answers?"_ Tommy said curiously, _"Answers to what?"_

"To why I'm killing people," Chuckie said, his eyes narrowing against the stars. "Why did I accept to do this? And when? How long has this been going on?"

Tommy shook his head, _"That doesn't matter; the only thing that matters is stopping yourself before you kill anymore."_

"The killing doesn't bother me." Chuckie frowned at the dog, "But the questions do…"

Chuckie shook his head. "I…I need to go out."

And at that he turned towards the door, grabbing his coat and walking out. He needed to get away from the house's influence on him. He needed to think on his own. He was also in the mood for some Pringles, and so to the twenty-four seven it was.

--------------------

Kimi sighed and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel of her car. She was stressed, and it showed. On the seat next to her sat a bunch on university files that needed to be finished by the next day, or rather, today. The little electronic clock in her car flashed two fifteen in the morning.

She sighed again and rubbed one eyelid with her hand, simultaneously brushing away a bang of dyed dark purple hair, which was messy from worry.

The light on the signal turned green and the twenty-year old pulled away, driving easily down the practically empty roads. She thought about her father, who was currently in hospital. He'd had a heart attack, and he wasn't going to get better, but at least he knew this, and surprisingly he was taking it in some stride. The man spent his life worrying about diseases or dying of horrible tragedy, yet when at long last it happens, he's suddenly not bothered about it. Maybe it's because he was finally relieved it was his time, so he didn't have to worry anymore.

Her mother was working overtime at work and at the café, echoing Kimi's efforts at working overtime at the café and her university to get her mind off things.

Kimi was twenty and in good shape. Slim, but not skinny, not too tall, good looks and curves in all the right places and healthy Japanese skin and looks. People said she was pretty, but she wasn't vain enough to admit that. Today, she was wearing a pair of nu-rock boots, dark blue and green striped leggings and yellow skirt with some studs and a green t-shirt with a black zip-up hoodie. Her fingernails were painted pink and she had some light black eye shadow. On her wrist were a few bands and bracelets. Her hair (apart from her fringe) was put back with a red hair band and it was long enough to end at her lower-back. She had a coat on the backseat of the car, which itself was pretty run-down. Obviously a student's hand-me-down car, given to her by her mother on the day she was accepted into university.

She looked out the window of her car at the streets she was passing. This was a run-down part of town. Lots of crime, murders, abduction, that sort of thing went on here. She hated driving through it, but it was the quickest way home.

Something else also played on the woman's mind as she drove through the streets. This was…that day.

Four years to the day she'd lost them…her one true love and her brother, in one horrible swoop. She felt her heart drop at the memory of both of them. Fourteen months of counselling had finally allowed her to come to terms with the facts. They were both dead. They had to be.

They had died when the massacre at her old high school had happened, when Chuckie had walked in and just started slashing away at the kids.

She shuddered at the thought of that. _What had made him do that? _She'd never know, but the police estimated that someone as disturbed as he had become must have killed themselves by now. Thus, she lost both her boyfriend and her brother in one day.

The only friends she'd had left after that were Susie and Dil, who had been a great help in recovering from the incident. Susie had been out of state with her gospel choir group when it had all happened, lucky her. Dil had been in the library obsessing over whatever obsession he had had at the time. Without them by her side, she'd probably still be traumatized about it.

She remembered a part of that dream she'd had after she'd fainted that day.

That cat, that weird red eyed cat that had followed Chuckie into the cafeteria. It still sometimes came to her dreams, despite the fact she took sleeping pills.

When she had come to, she had been outside her house. The police said someone must have dropped her off there, even though she'd thought she had run home from that evil place she had dreamed up. They never found the bodies of most of the victims, including Tommy's or Chuckie's, but they had already filed them as dead and the case was closed, leaving Susie, Dil and herself, as well as other survives to get on with their lives.

Currently Susie was at Brown University, but thanks to the internet, she still kept in touch. She even came down to the Java Lava at least once a month to sing, as well as see her parents and her friends.

Dil was trying to get work as a freelance writer-journalist for paranormal magazines. He'd worked on several things, but nothing major yet. He had suffered from the incident hard, and needless to say, he was now a permanent wearer of long-sleeved tops.

She shook these thoughts from her head. Now was not the time to be reminiscing about things like that. She had to get home and do these assignments. It may be late, but this was hardly the first time she'd been up all night studying.

'_But first I think I should get a snack.'_ She thought as she turned a corner to see a twenty-four seven, the artificial lights beaming out through the windows, making the shop stand out like a holy thing in the darkness surrounding it.

She pulled into the car-park, shutting the car down and taking her purse from her coat. She wouldn't need the coat, as after all, she would be gone a maximum of about ten minutes or not even that, considering how empty the store looked.

She quickly got out of the car, getting a shiver against the cold, but bearable night air, and walked into the store. The clerk barely looked up from his magazine as the automatic doors swished opened, closing a few seconds later. She walked into the store, looking for the chips section of the store. She was busy looking for a brand she liked when, in the background, the swish of the automatic doors opening could be heard.

The click on metal-on-floor could be heard as the person walked into the store. Kimi glanced up, her height being just tall enough to be able to look over the stalls of food.

However, what she saw made her mouth drop open into a terrified gape. She began to shake uncontrollably. Fear infected every cell on her body, casing it too lose all sense of warmth, draining all color from her face. She felt like she was going to be sick.

Walking slowly through the aisles and not noticing her, was a boy, or rather, a man whom she hadn't seen in four years. He had gone so long ago, but yet, he was standing right there in front of her. It had to be him the resemblance was far too similar to be co-incidence:

His wild red hair, his glasses, his tall skinny frame, his father's looks but his deceased mothers build. He was older, paler and sicker looking then before, but it was him.

It was Chuckie. Back from the dead.

She backed away, bumping into the glass of the soda cabinet. The world seemed to grow less real, almost hazy. Only the figure of Chuckie seemed to be alive, his black and white form moving through the rows of food. He was walking closer towards her now. She froze up, all feeling of the world leaving her.

He walked to beside her, opened the cabinet to get himself a cola, closed it, grabbed a packet of Pringles, and began walking towards the counter, not even acknowledging her existence.

She stood, shivering, then slowly turned her head to watch him walk up to the counter. Slowly she walked to the end of the aisle, peeking round to watch him with her fearful wide eyes.

'_He didn't even notice me…it's like I don't even exist to him…' _She thought as he put the items down on the counter.

The clerk looked at the objects, then to Chuckie, and coughed something as he began to type up the price on the register.

Chuckie's eyes suddenly twitched. "What?"

The clerk looked up, a sneer playing in his eyes. "I didn't say anything."

"No," Chuckie's voice was rising, "You called me something when you coughed."

"No I _didn't_." The clerk said with a defiant growl, but you could tell he was lying.

Chuckie was now narrowing his eyes, his hands beginning to grip the counter. His teeth began to grind together and a murderous look came into his eyes.

A memory flashed in Kimi's mind, the cafeteria, _that day_.

Chuckie's left hand began to snake into the inside of his coat, and Kimi had already guessed what he was reaching for. His coat moved around his hand, and Kimi spotted a flash of metal.

_A knife. _

Suddenly, she kicked into action and she walked forward, saying the first thing that came from her mouth.

"You did insult him, stop lying." The words sounded like someone was playing a recorder in her mouth. Kimi wanted to scream at Chuckie in fear, or maybe hug him for being alive, or maybe shout at him for almost destroying her life. But she kept a sharp lease on these emotions and played her part.

"You should apologize." She said again, folding her arms to hide the fact she was shaking.

Chuckie looked at Kimi surprised. He had totally forgotten the woman was there in the first place. His hand instantly left the handle of his knife. She seemed…_familiar_ somehow. Those eyes, that hair, the way she looked, even her voice. It itched in his mind. He was so _sure_ that he'd seen her before.

"Erm, yea!" He turned back on the clerk, shaking of his thoughts. "See! Just apologize and I won't _kill_ you."

He swore he saw the woman next to him stiffen up at that remark, even more colour drained from her face, if possible. The clerk looked nastily from the ill looking woman to the even more ill-looking man before crossing his arms. "No way. He's a fag, I mean, just look at him!"

Chuckie's eye twitched in complete rage. Kimi knew he was close to jumping over the counter and doing what he'd done to his high-school friends all those years ago. She had to stop him.

Despite the fact she was ready to bolt out of the shop and never turn back, Kimi stood her ground, blocking Chuckie from getting to the shopkeeper. Chuckie immediately felt furious at this unknown woman for just jumping in front of his line of fire like that, but unless he wanted to kill her as well, which he really didn't want to, he'd just have to go along with it.

"Look," Kimi said, hoping that the fear in her voice was being hidden, "You can't just call someone a fag just because they dress in a certain way, what if I called you…ermm…"

"Ugly." Chuckie helped.

The clerk didn't take this lightly. "Hey! Don't call me ugly, fag!"

Kimi could quickly see the situation was falling from her control. "_Please_!" She found herself pleading, "Just apologize!"

It was already too late. Chuckie suddenly had a knife in his hand. Then he was over the counter. Then he was plunging the knife into the clerk's heart.

Kimi screamed and backed away from the counter. All that time in therapy instantly washing away, she was suddenly unable to stand as her legs gave to terror.

Over the counter she could hear Chuckie screaming about how much shit he receives of people for how he looks and that people should leave him alone and that the clerk deserved to die for insulting him in such a manner. She could also hear the repeated sound of metal stabbing though flesh, of blood splattering and the clerk's screaming his last.

Tears began pouring down her face. She was going to die, and she knew it. When he'd finished Chuckie straightened up, wiping the knife clean on the man's clothes and sighing in relief. He turned around, only to see the woman cowering on the floor. His eyes widened in shock, again, he'd forgot she was there. It was almost like his mind _wanted_ him to forget she even existed.

As he slowly came over the counter the woman pushed her self hurriedly across the floor till her back hit a stand full of packets of sweets. She was panicking, and Chuckie really couldn't blame her.

He knelt down so he was at her level. "Hey, its ok, I'm not going to hurt you."

Her breaths came in sobs, her eyes red from tears. She didn't answer him, but she didn't take her eyes from him either.

Chuckie was unsure what to do. He'd never really let anyone just _go_ before. He slightly considered knocking her out and taking her to his house for later blood extraction, but he quickly brushed it off. Something inside him told him that this person was better then the little gremlin people out there in the world. She was…_special_ in some way that he couldn't quite explain. She was attractive, but Chuckie didn't feel like that was it.

His eyes narrowed as he studied the woman. _'No…there's something about her that's…real. She should live.'_

Chuckie stood back up. "I'm leaving now, don't try and call the cops, I never get caught."

He picked up the snacks from the counter and made his way towards the door.

The woman seemed to have collected herself somewhat and was now sitting with her knees legs to her side, supporting herself with one hand, the other proactively placed across her chest.

Just as the doors swished open to let him go, the cool night air blasting into his face, he heard her call out.

"Chuckie…"

He stopped, shocked, and instantly spun around on the spot. "What!? How'd you know my name!?"

She looked fearful again, her free hand closing to a fist. "I…I…I."

He frowned at her, "What? What is it?"

She gulped. "I'm your step-sister…Kimi…and you're…you're meant to be dead."

--------------------

Oh great, crappy cliff-hanger dramatics.

Well, looks like you guys are in luck. You get ANOTHER last chapter.

Even in this great big super long chapter I didn't finish it in a good finish-y way. So, you've got more to be expected.

While you cheer I moan. I was hoping to put more work into my Jack Spicer fic. Ahh well, to be honest, I do like writing this a bit more. It's a surprisingly easy fic to write for, and it's just such a crowd pleaser. And it's got blood, bloods always fun.

You know, it amazes me I managed to make an entire chapter, 8 pages, and all that actually happens is that Chuckie climbs some stairs and goes out, Kimi goes to the shops, and they meet while Chuckie kills someone. I think entire fics have been made in 8 pages. I filled the whole chapter up with plot-hole filling. God I'm such a plot-hole whore.

Anyways, R&R, it helps me open up new word documents saved as 'CTHM' more often, if you get my meaning…


	9. Questions, Questions

**BETA NOTES:**

Hey! Were you picking on me with that 'crazy pairing'/'random humor' slight?

And yeah… her flatmate should be Dil or Suzie. After all, O.Cs this late in a fic, suck.

Great chapter by the way… really love the dynamics between them… the catching up… so easy to read.

Will be waiting on edge for the next one.

**AUTHOR NOTES:**

SOOO!

You all seemed to like the last CTHM update, despite cheesy soap-opera cliff-hanger dramatics.

Sorry about that…I'm still in my 'cliff-hanger' writing stage. Be glad I aint gone into some 'crazy pairing' or 'random humour' writing stage.

So…yea. I dunno…I feel this is going to end up really typical or something. I bet you can see the ending a mile off. Yup.

If you review, I want you to tell me what you think is going to happen.

Ok…so…off I go then.

I own nothing 'cept your soul.

--------------------

Chuckie's eye twitched. The world suddenly slowed until a second became a minute. All sense of external feeling vanished. He found that he couldn't speak. He could only look at the woman on the floor, into her eyes, at the truth that lay there.

"Excuse me?" He heard his voice echo.

Kimi slowly, shakily, began climbing to her feet. She was trying to keep her eyes away from Chukie, but she couldn't. The look in his eyes…it was like she'd answered a question he'd spent years asking, yet, he was weary, as if now that he had the chance at the answer, he was hesitant to really know.

"You're…you're Chuckie Finster and I'm Kimi Finster. Our parents got married when we were just babies." She got to her feet, refusing to look over at the counter and still holding her hands to her chest in some subconscious form of protection. "Don't you…don't you remember?"

Chuckie's eyes narrowed in though and confusion, he looked down, trying to think. His last name was Finster? He had always known it started with an F, but he could never fully recall it. But Finster did sound familiar, so did the name Kimi. He had some flashes of memory in his mind, but they seemed…far away, parts missing, no sound, static picture, like a bad film.

Chuckie slowly raised a hand to his hair, running it bit by bit though his messy red locks. "I…I think I know you. We…went somewhere…the Eiffel Tower." He frowned at this odd part of his memory, but it was defiantly a memory.

Kimi could feel a smile twitch at her lips and her eyes widen. "Yes! Yes we did, we went on holiday there a few times!"

Chuckie's eyes closed, the memories were becoming blurrier and blurrier as he'd aged in his mind. He groaned and his placed his palms over his eyelids.

"Chuckie?" Kimi braved, even taking a small step forward, "Are you…ok?"

Chuckie looked up, staring into the eyes of his apparent step-sister. "We need to talk…more."

Kimi suddenly felt the creeping sense of dread moving up her spine. "Erm…I…don't know about that…"

"What? Why not?" Chuckie teeth came together in a growl of rage. The answers to the questions he'd been asking suddenly didn't want to talk to him? This was so damn typical of his life, always being taken to the edge of happiness, but then being ripped away.

Kimi noticed this sudden change in Chuckie's mood and began to very slowly back away from him. "Well, you…you caused a lot of damage to a lot of lives Chuckie, I don't know whether it'd be a good idea if you came back…"

Chuckie's eye twitched as he began to walk forward, his boots clicking on the floor in a slow, terrifyingly rhythmic manner. "Do you know how _long_ I've been looking for this?" He gritted out. "How _long _I've wondered about who I am? How I got into this whole _bloody_, _shitty_ mess?" He threw his arms up as Kimi stumbled back around the corner of the chips aisle.

"I've done things to people only _read_ about in _horror_ comics! I've torn out _eyes_ with _rusty spoons_! I've _disembowelled_ people with freekin' _salad tongs_!"

"P-p-please Chuckie." Kimi said, still backing away from the approaching maniac, "D-Don't come any closer."

"Or _what_?" Chuckie snarled; the murderer within him was raising its ugly head. "I'm the psychopath here, not you."

Kimi put an arm out in front of her protectively; her mind was running, trying to come up with something to stop her step-brother from killing her. "If-if you come any closer I'll…I'll…" She was running out of ideas…_good _ideas anyway.  
Suddenly, something came into her mind. "I'll never tell you about your past!" Her eyes widened in nervous anticipation. She hoped to God that Chuckie would buy that.

The murderer stopped, his expression slowly changed from anger to something akin to deep thought. Kimi could see Chuckie considering what she'd said, weighing the pro's and con's:

'_I should trust her, she's my step sister after all… but for all I know she could be lying… but she did know my name…' _His eyes narrowed, _'She's the only link I have to who I was… but, she said I'd ruined lives…'_

Chuckie relaxed and looked down, that all too familiar sinking feeling beginning to infect his body. "I'm not even sure I even want to know anymore." He placed a hand over his closed eyes. "Maybe I should just…go." And he turned around to act on his statement.

"No!" Kimi yelped, "Please…don't leave…"

"But don't get any closer?" Chuckie replied, not hiding the anger in his voice or turning around, "You're a person of contradictions."

"Look," Kimi said, trying to dampen the shake in her voice, "We should to go somewhere where we can talk, somewhere where I can tell you about…you."

It sounded weird to her. She would have to tell Chuckie about his whole life, about how their parents got together, and when they bought the Java Lava, or when they when on that trip to that cowboy ranch, or when he'd gone to watch his first concert.

She almost smiled at these memories. The comfort of the Chuckie she once knew gave her the confidence to sallow down her fear and take a step forward. Hopefully, that old Chuckie still existed, somewhere inside this new Chuckie. She knew that her step-brother was beyond repair, no matter what she said he could never come back to the life he once had, but…she hoped that somehow, she could…talk with him. He wanted some questions answered, but so did she.

Chuckie turned around slowly. "I…kind of know a place we could go. It's peaceful and quiet."

Kimi nodded. "Alright then, I have my car, we could go together, just tell me where it is."

---

Kimi sighed. "It's so pretty when you're looking down on it."

Chuckie nodded. "Yes, it is. It's an amazing illusion."

Chuckie was sitting on the front of Kimi's car; she was sitting on the roof with her legs going down over the front window.

They had driven, by Chuckie's directions, to a secluded hilltop overlooking the entire city. A small, old and rotting, wooden fence was all that protected them from a huge drop over the cliffside. The wind was cold, but not bitingly cold, just enough to make one shiver slightly when it blew, making the trees mutter lightly to the other foliage around them and the grass dance in an easy motion beneath them. The moon shone down on them through a crowd of dull grey clouds, as it shone down on all the people in the city that night.

They had been sitting here, looking down upon the city for an hour almost. They had said very little to each other. Kimi was still nervous around Chuckie; after all, he _was_ a murderer. But he was also her brother; one she thought had died long ago. On the outside, she was calm, if a little jumpy around him, but inside she was struggling with different emotions. She hated him because of what he _was_, because of what he had _done_, because of what he _still_ did. But she loved him because…he was Chuckie. He was her brother who had protected her and stood by her and grown up with her. They had been so close before…

She sighed again and looked back across the city. "What do you mean?" She was making small talk, and they both knew it, but they both played along.

"All these people," Chuckie said, his eyes still looking over the city, "All that filth and waste they make, and not just physical but mental and emotional. It's all there in that city, yet, when you take a step back to look at it, it doesn't seem so, a pretty illusion hiding the festering filth living within."

Kimi looked down to her step-brother, pulling her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. "Not everyone is like that…"

"But a lot of them are," Chuckie quickly added, "They torture each others existence, making emotional waste," he paused before carrying on in a slightly quieter voice, "And it all stores in me."

"What do you mean?" Kimi asked, keeping her calm and reminding herself that Chuckie was insane, which was a horrible fact to admit to herself while she was so close to him.

Chuckie pulled his feet onto the bumper of the car and linked his hands around his knees, but he didn't turn to look at Kimi. "I'm what's known as a waste-lock, Kimi. All that mental waste, all those hateful acts and thoughts, all the emotional waste of the human race collects up, and it stores itself in me. If it didn't, then…well, I don't know, but I assume it would be bad."

"Like world war three? Mass anarchy in the streets?" Kimi humoured him.

She heard the man chuckle, "Actually I was thinking something along the lines of the final episode of Paranoia Agent."

She chuckled; some things about him stayed the same then. She looked out over the city again, feeling a bit more comfortable around Chuckie. That joke had proven that the old Chuckie was still in there, maybe even alive and well.

"So…" She trailed, finally deciding to ask something more relevant, "Where have you been all this time?"

Chuckie bowed his head. "Please…don't ask me that…"

"Why?" Kimi inquired, "Don't you think I deserve to know?" She was surprised at the malice in the statement; some of that hatred was creeping out.

Chuckie turned his head to look at her. "If you don't know…then you won't be hurt."

"Hurt?" Kimi said quickly, "I'm pretty sure you can't hurt me much more then you already have."

Chuckie's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing and averted his gaze.

Kimi continued, feeling herself beginning to lose control on her inner fury. "You killed all my friends, all _our_ friends, and then you kill my boyfriend, who was also your best friend. Why Chuckie? Were they bad people? Did they really deserve to _die_ like that? Did you ever think on _anyone_ else when you decided to abandon our family and go on four year long killing spree?"

"Look, Kimi-"

"NO!" Kimi cut him off, slamming her hands down on the roof of her car, letting her legs slide forward slightly while she leaned forward and glared at her step-brother, "I was fucking _traumatized_ Chuckie! Do you have _any _idea what its _like_ to be traumatized?"

Chuckie remained silent and still did not meet with Kimi's angry gaze.

Kimi continued, letting her anger just flow out of her. "I would wake up _screaming_ about it! I was so terrified that I couldn't even sleep properly! I didn't leave the house for _six months_ straight! And I mean not even for God damn school! I had to go to a psychiatrist for fourteen months because of you! And it wasn't just me Chuckie, oh no, Suzy lost her faith, Dil started cutting himself and was almost hospitalized, not to mention our parents almost splitting up and who knows how you affected the other kids who survived your little massacre."

She finally stopped breathing in heavy, angry breaths; all the while Chuckie sat there and took it, never looking her in the face. "So any little apology you may have, any shitty little excuse you may think up won't make any difference because you've caused far too much damage to be repaired with a simple sorry."

Chuckie turned around, so his back was once again to Kimi. She wanted to stay angry at him, but when she heard his voice, her anger wavered slightly.

"I know…" It was so quiet, so self pitying, so simple.

He turned back to face her and she gasped. He was actually crying his eyes contained an amount of self hate and sorrow she'd never seen before. "I'm unredeemable, a murderer, an insane psychopath, I know…If I could stop it I would, but there's no way out. I can't be caught, I can't die, I'm trapped…trapped to this cycle of murder and regret."

Kimi found that she had no answer, no comment, nothing. She just bowed her head and looked away. He was a murderer who had almost ruined her life, yet…she found herself feeling _sorry_ for him.

'_This is so wrong.'_ She thought to herself. _'I hate him, but I feel pity for him. I can't forgive him for what he did, but I don't want to accept him as a monster…'_

Chuckie looked away, towards the city. "I don't ever expect to be forgiven. I know what I did was selfish and wrong. I have no illusions of being some hero fighting evil, or thinking I'm blessed by God to do as I please. _I'm_ the evil one, I should be locked up and forgotten about forever, but I _can't_, the _thing_ won't let it happen."

Kimi looked up. "Thing?"

"The monster behind the wall," Chuckie explained simply, "I have to feed it blood or it'll break through and destroy reality, but it'll also destroy me. However, as long as I feed it blood then it won't break out, but it also means it won't let me be caught or harmed, it's a double edged sword."

Kimi sighed. "Chuckie…that can't be real. Monsters don't exist-"

Chuckie spun around, his eyes still wrapped with tears, but that didn't stop his expression from being one of fury. "Oh? Well tell me why, in four years of killing I've never been caught? Or how every time I try to shoot myself there just so happens to be no bullets in the gun? Or why I've got little talking toy animals following me around?"

Kimi looked shocked. She really didn't have any answers to those questions, but then again, _could anyone?_

She dropped her head. "Look, Chuckie, you know you're insane. And while I know you can't be redeemed for the acts you committed, but that doesn't mean you can't stop yourself _now_. I think you have schizophrenia, bipolar disorder and a sociopathic nature."

"What are you, a shrink?" Chuckie half growled half joked.

Kimi smiled knowingly, but also sadly, and looked up to meet her step brother's eyes, "Well, not yet I'm not, but I will be once I earn my degree."

Chuckie frowned, "What?"

Kimi just nodded. "I'm at university Chuckie, earning my masters in psychology. After fourteen months of therapy I decided that I wanted to be a psychiatrist and help people. That and…" She drifted off.

Chuckie, who had been wiping the tearstains from his face and eye's narrowed his eyes at her, but not angrily. "And? Come on Kimi, tell me."

"…And I wanted to figure you out, Chuckie," She said simply, trying to gauge Chuckie's reaction. "I wanted to know why you did what you did."

"Oh." Chuckie looked down.

A silence grew into one that seemed longer then it really was, even worse, it was one of those uncomfortable silences. Both step-siblings looked away, each lost in their own thoughts for a moment.

Finally Kimi looked out over the city again. "You're right you know. It is an amazing illusion."

Chuckie looked out over the city, following Kimi's example. He nodded once, slowly. "Yea…"

Kimi sighed and looked down then back to Chuckie. "Look, Chuckie, I've…I've got to go."

"What?" The man jumped off the bonnet of the car, turning around to face his step-sister, "You can't leave! We've only just began to get to know each other again!"

Kimi made a small smile. Secretly, she wanted to leave. She needed to think this over, come up with some plans on how to handle this properly, and what this could mean for everyone else.

"Look," She said helpfully, "Maybe we could…exchange numbers?"

"No," Chuckie said quickly, surprising Kimi. "Its best I only give you my number, if you give me yours the others will know, and if they know then you'll be in danger."

Kimi nodded, accepting Chuckie's insane excuse; if he wanted to protect her, even by his distorted view of reality then she would let him. It showed, at least to her, that he wasn't going to hurt her, at least not on purpose. A tiny spark of hope bounced inside her.

'_Maybe…maybe he **can** be helped,'_ She though as she climbed down from the roof to get some papers from the backseat of the car. She opened the door, and momentarily crawled inside to find a spare piece and a pen. When she crawled back out she stopped and looked at Chuckie, who was leaning back onto the car, looking out over the city again.

For a moment, she felt a huge pang of sadness. That was her step-brother, her poor insane step-brother. She hated him for what he had done to her life, to all those people's lives. But…she hadn't given up on him. He could be helped, and she could help him. She could stop him from doing any more harm to any more people. She could find a place were he could be ok, safe from others...and himself. If he had never been caught, like he said, there was a chance she could get him in an asylum where he could be free to overcome his problems on his own, without the oppression of prison.

She sighed and walked over to him, holding out the pen and paper which flapped slightly in the cliff top wind.

"Here," She said, handing them over.

"Thanks," He quietly replied as he began to write his phone number down.

He wondered what this could mean to him. _Would finding his family really be the answer to his problems?_ He knew he couldn't ever leave his 'job', he was trapped for life. But in a way…he didn't want to stop, at least not yet. He just wanted to know what he _used_ to be like, what drove him to be the man he was now, and if, just maybe, there were people out their who still…cared about him, a family that still remembered him for how he was, not what he had become.

He handed the paper and the pen back with a small smile. "Here. Now, don't be offended if when you ring, I don't pick up the phone."

Kimi frowned. "Why not?"

Chuckie looked down, not wishing to show Kimi the evil grin he couldn't help forming. "I'm…very busy most of the time."

Kimi nodded slowly. "Uh-huh."

He looked up, after safely getting rid of the grin and instead adopting a more serious expression. "And I may not remember you right away. I think the _thing_ did something to my memory. It kind of…deletes anything to do with my past."

Kimi nodded again. "I'll keep that in mind."

She walked back towards the driver's side of the car and opened the door, but she paused, leaning on it. "Want a lift?" She raised her eyebrows hopefully, "You could show me were you live?"

Chuckie took himself off the bonnet shaking his head and putting his hands into his trench coat pockets. "If you come to the house then _they_ might see you, I don't want that happening." He finished quietly, as if he suspected them of listening in right now.

Kimi sighed. "Alright then."

This felt weird…she knew she shouldn't be leaving him like this. She should be giving him a room, or maybe the couch, in her tiny student flat on the university campus, which thankfully was only a half hours drive from the main city. But she knew the risk was too big. She'd said herself he was a manic depressive, and judging by the way he acted in the twenty-four seven, he could flip from calm to psycho at the slightest hinge.

"I'll…see you as soon as I can, ok?" She hoped she sounded like she had no worries about meeting again; it was a hard thing to mask.

"Ok," Chuckie nodded and smiled comfortingly. He had picked up on what Kimi was trying hard to hide, but he, for once, didn't mind. He understood that he was a maniac, and she was a psychology student. It was hardly the most looked-forward-to of meetings.

She got in the car, and started it up. Chuckie blinked as the headlights came on, but otherwise kept up his smile and motionless stance.

She waved. He waved back. Just like a normal step-brother and sister who lived normal lives.

Then she drove away, not eagerly, but hardly slowly, leaving Chuckie to stand and listen to the sound of the car rumbling off down the hill until he couldn't hear it anymore.

He sighed and looked down. _'I should be jumping for joy,'_ he thought sadly, _'But why do I get the feeling that this is going to end badly…'_

--------------------

WOW! Finally got this all finished up and shit, at exactly 1 in the morning too!

I started this chapter doing bits and pieces, the odd sentence or paragraph, but didn't really get far. Then I got basically a whole day off (apart from an early Media lesson) and found myself in the mood to write it all out.

So I did.

Odd what one can do in a day, eh?

Some JTHM fans may recognise the whole 'clifftop' scene, especially the eerily chose choice of words…

Anyways, I got some scenes all planned out for this. So, keep an eye out for the predicable hospital scene (come on guys and galls, you all know that was going to happen) and a visit to the Dillster (again, predicable!) but then I'm gonna make it all unpredictable and stuff with plot twists and the like. I know that while the other two scenes are predicable, there that nice kind of predicable, were you kinda want to write them because you know how great those kinds of scenes are.

Btw, just wanted to know, do you guys want Kimi to have a flatmate? I can write her one or not, it makes no difference to me. But, as I'm kind, I'm gonna let you guys decide!

Tell me in your reviews! Oh, and PLEASE review! I neeeeeds them to liiiive.


	10. Sweet Dreams

**BETA NOTES:**

No! You're going to kill Chuckie! You can't! (just getting ahead of myself – but personally… go ahead, off him… he's a grade A jerk anyways).

Put Dil in. He's too funny. :D

**AUTHOR NOTES:**

YAWN

Well, it's been a while. A long while really…

But this has officially become my favourite in-progress fic. I may have said this before…meh.

Anyways, I actually used to hate this fic when it was around the 5-6-7th chapters. Now I'm past all that angsty-teenager bullshit that I wrote I'm starting to love this fic again.

Oh, and thanks ya'll for your feedback last chapter, it made me SMILE it did…I especially liked acosta's review that mentioned a whole 'Lector-Clarisse' thing. I honestly didn't think of it that way until he mentioned it, but I can defiantly see what he was getting at.

ANYWAYS, chapter freekin' 10! I never thought this would get this far! And further more there's AT LEAST another…2-3 maybe 4 chapters still left for this thing, my fic's are often very short and sharp, never going over 10, 12 chapters. So for a fic I once hated like life to become the longest thing I ever did is quite a surprise for me.

Anyways, after reading your reviews I finally decided on an ending I wanna do. It's shocking, surprising, and most of all, a good ending. So, better get going then eh?

I OWN NOTHING LIKE A HOBO! (P.S: I'm not gonna kill off Chuckie! Or am I?...)

--------------------

Kimi opened the door to her tiny student flat and quickly moved in, slamming it shut and collapsing against it. She drew her legs up to her chest and curled into a small ball, hugging herself tightly. She felt ill, she was shaking, but she could only sit there, in the dark of her flat and stare at the old dull green carpet in front of her.

Had that moment really just happened? Had she really talked with her long lost psychopathic step-brother? It all seemed so…unreal, like she had dreamt the whole thing up on the way home.

But…it had been real. She'd been there. _He'd been there. _

She grabbed her head, shut her eyes and scowled at herself. She wanted this to go away, she wanted to sleep and wake up and forget this whole thing ever even happened. She…wanted a hot drink.

Slowly, Kimi picked herself up from the floor and walked into her kitchen, throwing her hoody onto the couch in the process.

Her flat was a tiny little thing, just outside the university campus. Literally, the building was across the street. She was on the fifth floor of a seven story apartment block, and she had a window that overlooked the road onto the university. There was an all-in-one-room living room, dining room and kitchen while a small door on the far wall led to the single bedroom and one slightly further down led to the bathroom, which was also connected to the small single bedroom.

She had all the student essentials. A worn out couch, an old TV, a Gameslave 3000 console with a few games, packets upon packets of Raman noodles and a collection of DVDs. The walls were painted a light green, the kitchen a light blue, and her bedroom was rose red. Posters of various bands and cult movies were dotted about on the walls, a shelf above her TV held a collection of books and in her bedroom lay a laptop, along with her other university work. In the corner of the living room was a slightly out-of-date stereo, but it was still in good working order.

Kimi had been lucky to get a flat on her own, even if it was very small and very cheap. Chuckie's grandfather had died the year after Chuckie had gone, the old man had gone peacefully in his sleep, but in his will he'd left both his grandchildren a university fund.

However, since Chuckie had been presumed dead, the money had gone to the parents, who decided to give it Kimi, thus allowing her to get her own place. It was cold in the winter and sometimes it got lonely, but it was hers and she was glad of it.

She got out as mug, put in a teaspoon of coffee, one sugar and some milk, than began to boil some water. She leaned back on the kitchen work-top and watched the kettle boil.

'_What does all this mean?'_ She wondered, her eyes blinking wearily, _'How do I tell mom and Chaz about this?'_

'_Should you even tell them?'_ A little internal voice answered back.

She closed her eyes, putting her fingers on them and rubbing them. She was tired, but she couldn't sleep, not now. Kimi then moved her hands to the sides of her head, pushing up her fringe and looked down.

She sighed, "I don't know…" She then gave a short sad chuckle, "Talking to myself, I'm gonna end up like Chuckie."

'_You shouldn't say that,' _the little internal her said warningly.

Kimi's eyes opened wide. "Ok…that was just weird." She closed her eyes and shook her head lightly, "Just as weird at anything else tonight."

A click suddenly came from the kettle, and Kimi looked over to it, the water had boiled. She quickly poured out the water and held her coffee in both hands. She then walked over, across her tiny apartment, to the window.

The window had a small cut-in ledge, not very big, but big enough for Kimi to sit on and look out over the street. The orange street lights lit up the road below her, illuminating the deathly quiet streets. When bathed in this unnatural orange light, the streets seemed to appear more… grimy. The lights blocked out the stars due to the light pollution, making the sky above just a dull, blue-black screen, a dull night blanket waiting for the light of the sun. Only the moon shone, its existence casting a sort of natural beacon telling the world below that space did still exist above them and that while the stars had abandoned them the moon would never leave earth's side.

She blinked sadly as she looked at the moon, its white pure light illuminating her face. _'Why does this kind of shit **always** happen to **me**?'_ She thought wearily, sipping her coffee.

She sat there, in silence, until she'd finish her coffee. She then took it back to her little kitchen, dumping it in the sink, and walked into the bathroom. Once there, she walked over to the bathroom cabinet and looked into the mirror. Her hands gripped the sides of the sink as she looked into her own eyes. She looked tired, stressed, and in needs of a good night sleep.

Behind the mirror were the contents of the cabinet. A toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, some razor blades and a razor, some headache pills… and a half empty container of tablets with a prescription for sleeping pills printed on the front.

Kimi had developed something of a sleeping problem after the high school massacre. It wasn't that she couldn't sleep, but instead she had developed a very bad case of night terrors. She would see those events happen over, and over again. She could feel the blood on her skin; hear the screams of those in pain, see people die in front of her. But she never saw anyone's faces. Then it would go black, and she would find herself running up a flight of stairs. Around her the screams got louder and more horrifying and she ran faster and faster, trying to get away from them.

Then that cat would appear, the little black cat, grinning with those terrifying teeth like a terrible Cheshire Cat. He would always appear in front of her, somehow moving up the stairs just as fast as she was.

Then _it_ would come from behind her. Something so horrifying she couldn't turn to look. She could hear it move, smashing the stairs up as it rushed to meet her, its horrible screaming roaring unnatural _sound_ deafening her.

The cat would laugh. She would scream.

The she would wake up, screaming and thrashing in her bed. But the images wouldn't go away, they'd stay, superimposed over reality, their dream voices still laughing and screaming and roaring into her ears over the sounds of reality. Usually it took several minutes for them to fade away, for the sounds to drift back into her mind. She would then go, still shivering from fear, and turn on the TV, putting on something nice and friendly, like a Dummi Bears movie or Spongeboy Bobpants.

It was at those times she wished she still had a boyfriend; someone being there to hold you and tell you that they care for you is the best way to calm down after a night terror. Although, her last boyfriend had left her over the fact that she had these terrors, but she didn't mind, he had been an uncultured cheap asshole anyway.

She didn't have these terrors all that often now, thanks to the therapy, but they still came when she particularly stressed. But she was smart enough to be able to predict roughly when she would have them, and on those nights she would take the sleeping pills so she would be able to sleep without dreaming.

She sighed, closing her heads and dropping her head. Normally this would have been one of those nights, but she had her university work to do, and by the time it was finished it would be too early to bother sleep.

"Damn you Chuckie…" She mumbled, "Why did you have to show up now, _why_?"

She looked to the shower and decided to take a long hot shower. It would calm her down at least.

"Just what I need," She said with a small smile.

---

Chuckie finally walked through the door of his decrepit house. He had no idea what time it was, and frankly he didn't care, it wasn't like he felt like sleeping anyway.

"_Well well, the wanderer returns,"_ Gogol's voice cut through the darkness like a knife, sarcastic, sneering and evil all at once. "_Have a nice long trip to the store, dear?"_

Chuckie looked up towards the shelf, his eyes quickly adjusted to the all too familiar dark, to where the cat plush sat, its tail swaying softly and its red eyes staring unblinkingly at the man.

"Fuck off." Chuckie stormed through the house, throwing his coat onto the couch and making his way towards the basement.

Gogol laughed, _"Angry are we? Poor Chuckie, let me guess, you killed someone and now you're regretting it."_

Chuckie whirled around from where he stood at the doorway to the basement, the torture chambers hidden in the pitch black, he could even hear one or two screams echoing softly from the depths.

"I said get lost," He growled at the toy cat.

"_Who was it? A girl?' _Gogol asked in a probing, vicious tone, _'You always get upset over killing those." _Its eyes narrowed, "_They probably deserved to die and you know it. You'll remember this soon enough, I know you will, you always do."_

Chuckie growled, narrowing his eyes dangerously before turning around and walking down the steps into the cool safety of the shadows.

However, he could still hear Gogol's voice echo down the narrow walls and into his ears. "_Go on,"_ It snarled at him through the darkness, _"Go talk to your little puppy friend, you'll come crawling back to my side soon enough."_

Chuckie hugged himself as he walked through the gloom. His steps became heavy and his pace slowed. He didn't want Gogol finding out about Kimi, he didn't want her in any danger. He knew Gogol had something to do with his memory loss, but he had never asked the cat, he didn't want to let on that he was suspicious of its motives for him. The cat claimed that he had gone willingly to the _thing's_ service, to this servitude of murder and torture.

And Chuckie didn't doubt him. The man admitted that he enjoyed his job, he enjoyed hurting those who'd hurt him, and probably hundreds of others. He was what went through all those people's heads when they got insulted for how they look or for who they are or when they get overcharged by some smug clerk. He was that angry mental revenge that all those people took, but could never themselves act out.

He was righteous retribution to all those pricks who insisted on making life harder for people who just want to get on with their day.

But that didn't stop him from feeling bad about what he was doing. He didn't regret killing, he regretting having being the one _too_ do the killings. He would give anything to escape this life. To get out of this trap, this house, away from the mirror-wall, from Gogol and Tommy. He wanted to run away, to find out who he really was. He couldn't just be this psycho un-catchable murderer, he was Chuckie Finster; he was someone, and he wanted to know who that someone was.

Kimi was that link, that golden rope thrown to him by fate. He knew that should he mess this up, that would be it; he'd be forever trapped as a servant to the being behind the wall.

Should he tell Tommy about Kimi? It was true that he trusted the dog more then he trusted the cat. Why he wasn't sure, but he felt a connection with Tommy that he didn't feel with Gogol. He felt like Tommy had known him longer, understood his broken mind better, treated him with more respect.

Or maybe it was the whole 'a dog is a man's best friend' thing.

Either way, as he let his legs take him to the room with the mirror-wall he cracked a small smile at the sight of the gothic dog plush sitting, waiting for him to arrive.

"How do you guys do that?" Chuckie asked unconscientiously.

"_Do what?"_ The dog asked as Chuckie sat down on a small wooden box, his back against the far wall, looking on the old blood stained mirrors, just being able to make out the cold, ever swirling mist behind them.

"Show up just when I want you to, or even when I don't." He chuckled quietly.

Tommy was sitting on a larger box, but not too large as to let Chuckie rest an elbow on it. The toy trotted silently over to Chuckie's shoulder, sitting facing the wall. _"We're part of you Chuckie, part of your mind, if you die, we die."_

Chuckie raised an eyebrow, "So you read my mind?"

Tommy chuckled, _"No, nothing so personal. I think we just kind of…know where you are and how you're feeling, at least as long as you are in the house anyway."_

Chuckie nodded slowly.

There was a silence. A sort of silence what you would want before you go to sleep. The sort of silence were one would take the chance to think deeply about something. This kind of silence was usually held looking up at stars, your love in your arms, not deep underground looking at a dusty blood covered wall with a possessed toy dog at your shoulder.

"If I could go back in time, do you think I would stop all this from ever happening?" Chuckie asked, cocking his head slightly at the wall.

Tommy turned its little head towards him and if it had eyebrows it probably would have raised them in curiosity. _"You don't know that answer to that yourself?"_

"No," Chuckie shook his head, "I don't…I don't know if I would refuse this life. This is what I was destined to be, from birth I was meant to be a waste-lock and I couldn't stop myself from being a murderer, even if I tried."

"_You're not sure about that Chuckie,"_ Tommy said softly, _"You could have never been a murder, you could have been an Average Joe."_

"No," Chuckie chuckled wearily again, "This is what I was meant to be, I know it…the question, is why, how, when. Do I have parents? If so, what are they like? What was I like before all this," And he gestured at the surrounding room emphasising his point.

"_I wish I could tell you Chuck, I really do," _Tommy answered blinking,_ "But do you really thing you could go back to the life you had? You're an insane homicidal murderer; they wouldn't even want to know you anymore. I wouldn't be surprised if they've already disowned you, or presumed you dead."_

"You don't know that." The redhead answered a tad bitingly, his eyes twitching in annoyance at the dog's statement. "What if they do miss me, what if they do care where I am and what I'm doing? What if they do still want their son back, even if what he has done is beyond redemption?"

"_You don't know that either."_ Tommy countered. _"You know only what the **thing** in the mirror-wall wants you to know. I am not part of its system, but even I can see its effects on your mind."_

"And what would your advice be to rid myself of this memory controlling monster? Or should I even ask." Chuckie looked to Tommy, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"_You know my answer Chuck, so why do you not follow it?" _The dog replied firmly, almost angrily,_ "It's clearly the best option. The longer you live the longer the beast will feed from you, the longer Gogol will control you and the longer you will be forever wondering who you are."_

Chuckie smiled sarcastically, "So I should shoot myself, drown myself, burn myself alive. Why search when you can give up, right?"

"_You won't be giving up,"_ Tommy said quickly, _"You'll be freeing yourself of slavery. Ending your pain and ending the pain that you deal out. You claim to be taking out only those who are unworthy of life; well **you're** unworthy of life Chuckie! You cause more pain and suffering then anyone you kill!"_

"What? And doom the next poor soul they've got lined up for this gig?" Chuckie shook his head, and looked down. "No… no I can't do that, not yet, not until I know who I was, therefore, who I am."

Tommy's black eyes narrowed on the murderer. _"Tell me," _he asked in a low, dangerous tone,_ "Why would you even want to see your family, if you know that there's a high chance you'll hurt them? And assuming you even find them, who's to say you even want to be found? You think they're going to be happy to see you? Fuck, they'll be pressing nine-one-one before you could even wave hello. Then you'll get pissed off and tear them to shreds putting you right back into the mess you started in."_

Chuckie held his head in his hands. He knew it was true, it was all true. But he couldn't give up this one chance; he had to know the answer to his question. It was eating him alive, tearing at his mind, driving his emotions and ruling his dreams.

Chuckie closed his eyes. He wished he could sleep now. In his dreams he could still see them, hazy, distant, but they were there with a light shining from behind them so he couldn't see their faces, a tall woman with neat black hair, a shorter man with red hair and thick glasses and a teenage girl, who he now knew as Kimi, waving to him.

His family, his past, his _identity_.

Chuckie would run, run as fast as his thin legs could take him towards them. But the closer he got the hazier and distant they became. He could never reach them, no matter how fast or how far he ran. He would reach out to get them, but something would grab him from behind, a tentacle, smooth and shiny, but horrifying to look at as it was constantly changing its texture and color. More would come, wrapping around his arms, legs and chest. Their hold was tight and unbreakable. Then, they would drag him back, tearing him off his feet and away from the light, away from the warm light of his family, into the cold, into the shadows. He would turn his head, trying to fight off the iron, painful grip of the monster that held him, only to see its face, or rather, the mass of jaws and ever changing faces of the monster. He would scream as it formed long enough to make one big pair of jaws, then, he would be thrown into them, forever being engulfed by the cold darkness.

Then he'd wake up, sweating and panting. He hated sleep because he hated waking up knowing he'd been so close to light, only to be ripped back into the darkness and then to awaken to his grim reality.

Chuckie blinked, and leaned against the box to his side, the one Tommy was on. He could feel the creeping numbness of sleep in his toes and beginning infecting his legs. He didn't want to sleep, he wanted to stay awake. He now wished he'd bought that coke and Pringles at the store; it might have kept him up for a bit longer.

His eyes closed and they wouldn't open again.

The last thing he head as his mind drifted into sleep was Tommy's distant voice. _"Is finding your identity really worth the price?"_

--------------------

Heh. I find it rather ironic that Kimi, the sane shrink-in-training gets no sleep when the insomniac mass murder gets to nod off.

But yea, this chapter was just about each one dealing with what happened in the last chapter. I could have made a super small version of this for the last chapter, but that wouldn't have been any fun.

So! A nice introspective look on how the two siblings dream and some more characterisation on spirit-dog Tommy.

No flatmate, as many of you guys asked. I'm gonna try and aim to put either Suzy or Dil in the next chapter, it depends on what happens when I write it (I don't ever plan anything out on paper or jot ideas, I just let em flow while writing or keep them stored in my BRAAAIN).

Please R&R! You don't have to, but we all know how nice it is when you get little email alerts with 'botfanfiction – review alert for…'


	11. We Need Backup!

**BETA NOTES:**

Woo-hoo! Dil! You rock! Good to see that you're still in the land of the living though… (unless you, Invader Sideos is a waste-lock yourself and have been… "busy"?)

Anyways, great chapter. As usual. It's great to see Kimi getting some comfort.

I'll be looking forward to the next chapter!

**AUTHOR NOTES:**

YES I KNOW!

It's been too long since I updated this. FAR TOO LONG. And I expect that you'll all want to kill me, especially with this meagre offering of a chapter I present to you know.

I had writers block, and my life seemed to explode into busyness with the arrival of my DA account not to mention exams coming up. So not only could I not write out the visions in my mind, they started clogging up.

And worse of all it was only for THIS FIC. It was horrible…

But now I'm back writing it again! And after exams I'll be a college-less bum, so I can write lots, WOO.

I admit this is almost purely filler stuff for the next chapter. I had this great little sequence thing all lined up as well, but I had to take it out and save it for another rainy day because it didn't fit.

The next chapter is about… four pages done right now, cos I wanna update to it fast. Anyways, again, sorry for making you dudes and dudettes wait so long.

I own nothing like a bum.

--------------------

_Two days._ It had been sitting there, silent, simple and lifeless, for two days on the top of her TV. Every time Kimi walked into her front room, she saw it.

A single, harmless piece of paper with nothing but a list of numbers written on it, however, this piece of paper was possibly the most dangerous thing in Kimi's life.

The number belonged to her step brother, Chuckie…the insane mass murder.

Every time Kimi saw an article with the headline 'Mother of three missing' or 'Group of friends vanish from their car' she shivered. _Was that Chuckie's work? What had he done to those people, and why? What had they done to him to make him kill them? _

She hadn't touched the paper since she'd put it down on top of her TV, but every time she looked at it she heard that little voice in her mind whisper to her. Telling her to pick up the phone, dial the number, and talk with him.

The odd thing was, she was slowly beginning to become convinced. While at first she wanted nothing more then to burn the thing, to forget everything and walk away, she now wanted to hear his voice again. He was in pain, her step-brother was in pain, and she wanted to help him…she _needed_ to help him.

But she'd see this movie before, she'd read the book, she knew that the one thing she should NOT do, was to rush right into this. If she was going to risk her life again, then this time she was going to get some backup.

If Chuckie claimed he was the slave of some supernatural creature, then Kimi would get a supernatural expert on her side. She picked up the phone, pressed speed-dial two, and waited for the other end up pick up. The phone rang twice, then…

_Click._

"Hello?"

"Hey, Dil, it's me, Kimi." She couldn't help but feel more relaxed at the sound of a familiar voice. Kimi had been feeling rather odd lately while alone in her flat, like something, or maybe a certain someone, was watching her. She hadn't spoken to any of her close friends since she saw Chuckie, a combination of life and worry had began to strangle her social life. She shook it off as paranoia, after all, she'd just learned her brother was still alive and still supporting a healthy murdering spree.

"Hey," Dil's voice sounded happy, almost relived. "What's up Kim?"

Kimi crossed one arm across her stomach to supporting her phone arm. She wandered slowly over to the window, letting the phone wire stretch. "Oh, nothing, nothing." She tired not to sound too bothered, but she was getting that 'being watched' feeling again. "How about you?"

Dil sighed down the phone and she could tell he'd sat down heavily. "Oh, man, I've been trying to convince the editor of 'Para-zine Monthly' to let me do an article on the weird amount of murders in the city."

Kimi froze on the spot, her face draining of colour. "M-Murders?"

"Yea," Dil didn't seem to have detected the shake in Kimi's voice, "Is it just me or are there loads of unsolved murders and disappearances around this place?" He sighed, "The editor thinks I'm grasping at straws but I'm sure it has to lead to something supernatural, especially if the police can't seem to find anything."

"Maybe a waste-lock?" Kimi couldn't help herself; the words seemed to come on their own accord.

"Waste-lock? Maybe…" She could see Dil frown in thought on the other end of the line, "That's a pretty educated guess, how'd you think of that?"

She sighed, sitting down on her couch. "Dil, I need to tell you something… face to face."

"…Ok." He sounded worried, "Is everything ok? You're dad's still alright isn't he?"

Kimi raised a hand to her forehead, pushing back her fringe slightly, "Yea, yea he's still hanging in there. This is… something else. Something I want you to help me with, ok?"

"Alright." He sounded relieved about her step-father, and Kimi couldn't stop a small smile forming in thanks, "Want me to come round?"

She nodded although he couldn't possibly see her, "Please."

'_You sure that's a good idea?'_ A voice whispered in her mind, _'He might not believe you about Chuckie. He might get mad. He might tell you to never speak to your brother again.'_

"Shut up," Kimi quickly mumbled to herself.

"What?" Dil answered with a hint of surprise in his voice.

"Oh?" Kimi caught herself, surprised at her own actions. "Sorry, just talking to myself. I think I've been cooped up in this flat a bit too long, you know?"

She heard Dil laugh good heartedly on the other end. "Sounds like you could use some company, I'll be right over."

She smiled; glad to finally get to talk to one of her closest friends. "Thanks."

"Cya in a mo." The phone clicked, ending the connection. Kimi clicked her phone off and set it back down.

She fell back into her couch, sliding down some. She felt like sleeping, but she knew she couldn't. She hadn't slept properly since Chuckie talked with her.

'_Damn him,'_ She mentally growled, _'Ever since the store my life has been turned upside down.'_

'_Don't blame him just because you're stressed,' _that voice came up again. She frowned at the little inner-her answering back, that'd been happening a lot lately.

Refusing to give in and answer back she stood up and walked over to her kitchen, deciding to pre-empt Dil's request for a coffee, three tea spoons and one sugar with little milk, and sat on the worktop. Again, she found her eyes drifting to the little piece of paper with Chuckie's number.

She wondered if she should hide the paper in case Dil took it from her. But then, why would Dil take it? If anything he'd be just as eager to see Chuckie again as she was, but she knew he wouldn't want her to be in any danger.

"It's a tight rope Kimi…" She mumbled to herself slowly.

The sudden shrill cry of her doorbell snapped her attention. She hopped off her worktop and walked over to the door, looking through the eyehole instinctively even though she already knew who it was.

Dil's red hair was the first thing you ever seemed to notice about him, wild and crazy with a small pony-tail at the back, however the boy had matured into a man and now he sported a mid-nineties old school goatee, he also had a small gold earring in one ear. He was wearing a red and black chequered shirt with a white t-shirt underneath and with a pair of black baggy pants complimented with a metal chain, on his feet he wore a pair of faded all stars. He had grown bigger, but was still kind of short for his age and so he was only about an inch taller then Kimi.

Kimi had to smirk; he was still going through his 'Axel Rose-cum-Curt Cobain' look.

She opened the door and he smiled. "Hey Kimi, how's it hanging?"

"Stressful and tiring," She answered wearily back, a small smile playing on her lips. She stepped aside to wordlessly invite him in.

"Bummer," Dil replied with all honesty.

Kimi shut the door and walked into her kitchen, "Sit down, I'll get your drink."

Dil smiled at the way Kimi had already prepared him a coffee. "Thanks." He slumped down onto her couch bringing his hands up to his face and the brushing his hair back. "Oh, man, it's been rough lately."

"You're telling me," Kimi replied with a knowing smile as she picked up their coffee, "But you first, ok?"

Dil chuckled as Kimi sat down next to him, handing him his slightly cold but still drinkable drink. "Well, like I said on the phone, finding work is hard for a budding paranormalist, especially when no one wants to listen to my theories."

Kimi nodded, she was listening, but still trying to figure the best way to inform Dil about Chuckie.

"Anyways," Dil continued after sipping his drink, "I want to try investigating the whole murder thing," the word 'murder' sent another chill down Kimi's spine, "and see if I can't dig up anything on that." He frowned in thought. "Hey, you mentioned a 'waste-lock' on the phone, how'd you guess that?"

Kimi was starting to feel nervous and so she looked away. "I… erm…" She sighed, Dil was her friend. One of her best friends, they'd been through a lot together, and she knew that she could trust him more then she could trust anyone else. "I… I met one."

Dil's eyes widened. "What? Waddya mean 'met one'?"

Kimi bit her lip. "I met a waste-lock, two days ago… at the twenty-four seven on Spooner street."

"But… how?" Dil scratched his head. "I mean, I didn't even think you knew the meaning of the word, no offence."

Kimi managed a small smile, but she still didn't make eye contact. "He told me what it meant."

Dil almost jumped off the couch in surprise. "You talked to him! What's he like!? Where's he live! Wait," his eyes narrowed, "How'd you know he wasn't just a crazy person?"

"Oh, he was," Kimi answered quickly, "Very insane actually. He murdered someone in front of me and was going to let me go… but then… he realised who I was…"

Dil moved closer to Kimi, his eyes still wide in shock. "He-he murdered someone? Oh my god… and he knew who you were?"

Kimi blinked back tears. "Not at first, only when he talked to me." She couldn't hold back any longer, she sobbed and held her head in her hands.

Dil immediately took her into his arms in a comforting hug. "Whoa, whoa, it's ok Kim, its ok."

"No, it's not," She sobbed quietly, "Dil…" She looked up into his eyes. "It was Chuckie."

The colour on Dil's face instantly drained. After a second he slowly shook his head, but didn't take his eyes away from Kimi. "No… no way, he's dead Kimi, he died years ago."

Kimi suddenly felt angry, why didn't Dil believe her? "It was him Dil," She couldn't help the growl in her voice, "He'd changed yes, but it was him. He remembered me and we talked, he said he was a waste-lock and that he can't remember his old life, which is why he never contacted us."

Dil moved away from Kimi, to the end of the couch, still shaking his head. "No way, no… way. He's a dead murder Kimi, we both know it."

Kimi almost leapt up, her tear-stained eyes narrowing in anger. "Don't you think I don't know that? He's my fucking insane mass murdering step-brother Dil! I never wanted him to come waltzing back into my life and kill a store clerk right in front of me!"

'_I told you he wouldn't believe you_.' That voice again, louder then before, whispered in her head, making Kimi even more furious.

Dil stood up, a mixture of anger and determination in his eyes. "Look, Kimi, maybe you've just not been sleeping right or something I don't know, but Chuckie is dead. He's been dead for four years and there's no way in hell he can be coming back, even if you do say he's a waste-lock. It just can't be possible."

"Why not?" Kimi almost screamed. "He's been murdering for years! You weren't there in that base of his when he killed Tommy-"

"JESUS KIMI!" Dil grabbed her by the shoulders, firm, angry but also desperate, "There was no base! There was no house! Don't you remember! You dreamt it all up; you went to therapy about it!"

"NO!" Kimi pushed Dil away, "It's real! They just made me think it was a dream; it has to be real if Chuckie is still alive. He described it all to me Dil, the monster behind his wall, the demons, the invulnerability and the ability to never be caught!"

Dil's eyes narrowed. "You could have read that anywhere…"

"But its true isn't it?" Kimi growled, "Those are all the powers of a waste-lock aren't they?" Dils silence only confirmed her suspicion. "I knew it… and further more, I have proof."

Dil raised an eyebrow, but kept his suspicious, angry demeanour. "Proof? What proof?"

Kimi marched over to her TV and grabbed the small piece of paper, shoving it under Dils nose. She smirked. "His phone number, he told me to ring him because he wanted to talk to me again, to learn more about who he used to be."

Dil slowly took the number, studying it with his eyes, as if looking for any sort of evidence it was fake. Eventually he spoke, but now his anger was gone, replaced with a sort of emotionless curiosity. "…Have you tried this?"

Kimi's anger also began to fade as she shook her head and placed her arms around her body. "No. I wanted to call you, so I would have someone there with me next time… in case, you know…"

Dil nodded slowly. "Kimi, you know that this number could be fake…"

"…but it could be real," The woman answered slowly, "Dil, please…" She looked him in the eyes as he looked back to her, his own eyes seemingly dead of any feeling.

Eventually he sighed quietly. "Ok. We'll try the number."

Kimi moved forward and embraced him in a tight, relived hug, finally glad that someone else was there with her in all of this. "Thank you."

Dil automatically responded by hugging her back, but he still couldn't help but comment. "But, what if it's wrong?"

Kimi moved back out of the hug and smiled tiredly. "Well then we've lost nothing, right? And I'll probably just get some more sleep," she paused, then decided it was ok to admit, "I… I think I've been under too much stress lately. Weather this is the real thing or not, I really think I'm starting to crack a bit…"

'_Understatement of the year…' _That voice again, whispering and harsh. Kimi held back the urge to scowl at it.

Dil smiled softly, comfortingly. "Don't worry. After all this is over, we'll both go on a holiday somewhere, take a week or something," he chuckled quietly, "I think we could all use a few days in the sun."

There was a short silence between them, Kimi gulped. "Well… when do you want to phone him?"

Dil looked down, away from Kimi's gaze, his mind already contemplating the possible meeting. "Not yet. If this is the real thing then we have to get prepared. He'll most likely want to meet us on the night, and it has to be night, that'll be the only time he'll be willing to go out."

Kimi nodded, "He looked tired, and he said he'd be 'busy'," she couldn't help shudder as she wondered on what 'busy' meant.

Dil nodded, sitting back down on the couch. He raised a hand to his chin, stroking a finger along his goatee. Kimi placed her arms around her body, hugging herself and moving to lean back against the nearest wall. She was glad someone else was doing the thinking for her; someone else was taking control of a situation she'd been worrying about for two days.

"The Java Lava," Dil finally announced.

Kimi's eyes bugged. "What? Why the hell would I want to bring him there?"

"One," Dil began, obviously having deeply thought his plan out, "It's a place familiar to him, at least in him memory. It might make him calmer and remember us easier. Two, it's fairly big, and we know the place well, meaning if he does try anything we'll have a good chance of getting out of there in one piece."

Kimi had to agree with Dil's grim, but sound logic. The guy may be odd, eccentric even, but he was smart and as his job required, cautious when dealing with situations like this. Again, Kimi was glad he was at her side.

She nodded. "Alright, we'll use the phone from there as well, just in case…"

"He traces the number to your apartment?" Dil asked, looking up at her.

"Yea," Kimi replied sadly, looking down, "He's my step-brother and all, but still a murderer."

Dil looked down also, linking his hands. "I must admit Kimi," His hands clenched tighter, "I don't know how I'll react if it is him…" Dil's eyes narrowed, "He caused a lot of pain in all our lives…"

Almost as an automatic reaction he slowly reached for his left arm and held it. Kimi noticed, but sighed. "He knows, you know." Dil looked up at her, slightly surprised as she continued. "He knew no one could ever forgive him, and he never asked to be forgiven. He said his actions could never be redeemed, all he wants to know is how he got to the point he's at now."

Dil scowled. "Then what? He's just going to carry on?"

Kimi shrugged. "I don't know. He mentioned he'd once tried to kill himself, so maybe he'll do that…"

"I hope so." Dil answered, straight and without remorse.

Kimi didn't react for a while, but finally she had to admit her own, honest opinion. She closed her eyes, stopping the small tear from falling. "I hope so too."

--------------------

WOW!

SO HORRIBLE!

Ahems, anyways, how's do you all like Dil? Yea… hope you do like him. He's like, a kind of sane person. The last sane man or something.

Anyways, I'm thinking of ways to put Suzy in somehow.

So, R&R! You can voice your RAGE at my lack of updating! (Although you gotta give some rage to Fan Fic (dot) Net for breaking down for several days and not letting anyone upload any documents.)


	12. Carpe Noctem

**BETA NOTES:**

Anyways, great chapter. It's leading towards something big. What's Chaz going to say if Chuck turns up at the hospital? (Besides obviously clutching his heart and waiting for assistance).

**AUTHOR NOTES:**

AGH! Stuff. Blob.

OK. This chapter is going to be much better then the last one. DEFONATLY.

It's gonna have stuff, plot development and lots more action. PROMISE.

And I'm gonna try and write it as fast as possible. TRY.

CUT TO THE FICAGE!

Heh.

OK, I own nought.

--------------------

Kimi looked up again at the clock on the wall to see that _again_ it was telling her the time was eleven o'clock. Usually 'the Java' would shut around ten and everyone who worked there went home around half-past or quarter to eleven after cleaning up and emptying the till.

However, Kimi had stayed on, saying she was going to stick around and clean up on her own, letting her mother go and see her father in hospital. He was getting worse, the doctors said it wouldn't be long now and that they should start planning his funeral.

If anything it only made Kimi even more stressed then she already was. Never before had she been trying so hard to keep it all together.

She looked out of the front of the shop, seeing a few people walk past the window in the almost darkness of the streets, the street lights casting their cone-shaped beams of light onto the ground, creating the effect of a stage light, with the dark world as its backdrop.

Kimi sighed and looked again to the clock, five minutes had passed.

She wanted more then anything for someone, to arrive, to be here with her. The darkness of the shop was stifling, but also, strangely comforting. In the darkness she could watch the world pass by, like the window was a screen and the world was a play. In the shadows she felt almost safe, untouchable, away from all the stress and pain that was infecting her life.

'_It's so strange, don't you think?' _It was that voice again, that whispering which tired Kimi in her mind.

'_What is?'_ She mentally replied, deciding to humour herself, anything to keep her mind off what she might be about to face.

'_The world,'_ it replied softly, as if it was itself dwelling on the idea, _'It's such a cruel place…filled with cruel people.'_

'_You know,' _Kimi wondered back,_ 'I really must be going insane if I'm talking to a thought. My stress must be collecting itself within my subconscious to produce a audio outlet as my mind deals with the whole shitty mess of the last few weeks.' _

'_Oh, we're not that.'_ The voice answered with smugness, making Kimi freeze, _'we're something a little different…we're working on a few things in your brain right now, but don't worry, you'll love it.'_

Kimi could have sworn she heard a soft, dark chuckle, not in her mind, but _around_ her…

A sudden knock at the window made her jump, almost falling from the stool she was sitting on, leaning against the bar.

For a second, she thought that it was Chuckie, the red hair making her stomach drop, however, she blinked and realised that it was only Dil with a black backpack on his back.

He looked pale, but that might have just been the street light effect. Kimi smiled, finally thankful that she wasn't alone any more.

Never before had she been so glad that he'd showed up. She ran over to the door, unlocked it while fumbling with the keys, threw it open and almost dove onto him, grabbing the man in a tight hug.

"Hey," He replied with a hug, not as tight, but still comforting, "I'm happy to see you too Kimi but this is a little extreme."

"I…I'm just glad to have someone here," Kimi admitted as she let go of Dill, but refused to meet his eyes, "I'm… ah," she shook her head, "Just, declining sanity stuff."

Dil raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

Kimi paused and took a deep breath. "Just…" She sighed, "Never mind. I'm just nervous I guess."

Dil nodded. "It's alright, I'm nervous too." His voice quietened, "It's not every day you get to meet a dead psychopath…"

The woman turned and began to walk back into the store, Dil following her immediately. The air between them because cold, silent. The night seemed to become darker, and down the road a street light flickered, as if the shadows themselves were trying to assault the light, trying to conquer the artificial sunlight and embrace the world in gloom.

The two entered the café, each lost in their thoughts, and both secretly wishing that the whole thing would be fake and they could just go home.

Kimi locked the doors again and the two continued into the backroom, turning on a light and taking the note out of her pocket with a shaking hand. She looked over to the wall where a wall-mounted phone with an extended lead rested, waiting to be used.

She turned to Dil. "Can you phone him?"

Dil shook his head. "He won't know who I am, it has to be you."

Kimi's hand was shaking even more. She gulped again and nodded. She knew the question was pointless, but she'd asked it anyway.

"Al-alright," She forced the words out, her stomach was turning and twisting, her legs felt like they could give way. "I'll… I'll ring him now then."

She picked up the phone, holding it to her ear. With a shaking hand she slowly began to dial the number.

Why did the first ring have to remind her of a funeral bell?

A second ring, a third, a forth, a fifth, maybe he really was busy? A sixth… a seventh. Kimi sighed and put the phone down.

Dil looked down and breathed out, "Well, that's something of a relief."

Kimi didn't answer. This ended something she was desperately hoping to end, but now it had started something else. Why had she thought all this was real? Was something wrong with her? Maybe she was letting the stress get to her.

But there was something else. Part of her had wanted Chuckie to pick up the phone. She feared him yes, but he was still her brother, and he was in pain. She had so wanted to help him, maybe to make up for the missed chance last time…

She blinked and leant against the wall next to the phone. "Oh… God. I… this is…"

"Yea," Dil answered quietly. He looked up. "Come on, I'll get you a coffee, my treat."

She nodded and turned to walk away.

_Ring ring._

The two immediately froze, their eyes locking onto the motionless, but ringing telephone.

_Ring ring._

Kimi slowly stretched out a hand. The room seemed to have gone colder; she couldn't find air in her lungs.

She picked the phone up and brought it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Who is this?" Chuckie's voice reached through the phone, making her heart jump.

"It's…it's… it's me, Kimi." She replied, gripping the phone tighter.

Dil was now looking at her, wide eyed. The room was so quiet that he could easily the familiar voice buzz from the phone. The colour had drained from his face and his stomach had dropped, he was sure his heart had stopped beating as well.

"Kimi? Kimi who?" Chuckie was genuine in his questioning, he'd already forgotten about her.

"Kimi Finster," she replied quickly, not wanting him to think she was some random caller, "Remember Chuckie? We met in the twenty-four seven. I'm your step-sister…"

"…The hill! Yes!" Chuckie was jumping on the other end of the line, but suddenly is voice dropped, like he didn't want anyone around him to hear, "How'd you get this number?"

"You… you gave it to me." Kimi insisted, "You said if you knew my number they'd-"

"Know about you, yes," Chuckie added quickly, "Which is why we've gotta be fast, they might know I'm talking to you now… Where do you want to meet?"

"Erm, do you know the Java Lava?" She asked, wondering how odd it sounded to ask him about a place he once worked in.

"Erm… I… it has coffee, right?"

Again, Kimi was taken by surprise. "Yes," She nodded once, "It's on Warren Street, opposite that new English style chip shop."

She could almost hear Chuckie try to remember. "…I think I know… Yes, yes I do know. I think we used to go there sometimes, am I right?"

Kimi couldn't stop a smile twitching. "Yes! Our parents owned it, you worked here."

"Here? As in, you're in the café right now?"

"Yes, we'll let you in don't worry." She assured him.

"We?" The quiet anger in his voice made Kimi quickly remember her fear.

"Yes… someone's here with me," She looked at Dil, "An old friend of ours, Dil Pickles."

"Dil…" Again she could almost hear him thinking, running his brain for even the slightest hint of a memory. "…aliens."

Kimi almost laughed. Of all the things for Chuckie to remember about Dil, the one thing he associated with him was the boy's eccentric personality. "Yes."

Dil seemed to have an odd mixture of horror and surprise on his face. He could hear how Chuckie had associated him with aliens, and so he was glad the guy remembered him, but on the other hand, Chuckie was alive! This was impossible, but Kimi was on the phone to him, right now! And once more, that meant he really was a murderer, and he was coming right here to the café!

"I… should get going." Chuckie announced quickly, "I'll get there in about half a… make that an hour. I better put on some dry clothes."

The statement made a chill run up Kimi's spine. "Alright, we'll be waiting…"

Chuckie put the phone down without even saying goodbye. Kimi took the phone away from her ear and looked at it, wondering for a second if that had just happened. Then she put the phone down, as if signing a contract.

Chuckie was coming, and now they had to wait.

Dil gulped and went to fold his arms, then unfolded them. He fidgeted like that for a moment before finally asking. "So… he's coming?"

"Yes." Kimi said soundly, trying to be the stronger one. "I told you, didn't I? That he was alive, and you doubted me."

"I'm sorry, but what can you expect?" Dil quickly countered.

Kimi smiled softly, "It's alright. I'd have done the same thing." She looked up, "He'll take an hour… so how about that coffee?"

She was buying time, trying to keep normal. Dil knew it too. He nodded. "Yea, heh, I think I need one."

For the next hour, the two sat, side by side at the bar of the Java Lava. They talked about what they wanted to ask Chuckie, about how this might affect their lives. About if he was a waste-lock, therefore confirming the existence of demons; then did angels exist as well? Ghosts, spirits, other phenomenon; this could lead to so many long asked questions being answered.

Dil seemed to find some excitement in the idea, seemingly forgetting who he was about to talk too, the realization that Chuckie was living proof that there was something else beyond this world had made him forget that the man was also a psychopath.

Only when Kimi mentioned that it was nearing twelve that the silent, shared fear crept back into the air.

The two looked to the window; the world seemed to have gotten more defined. Colours stood out more, the light and dark seemed to no longer move around each other, but clash, each trying to outdo the other in how toned they could be.

They waited… and waited… the clock moved to five then to ten.

"He's… he's not coming." Dil finally spoke, his words almost making Kimi jump.

She frowned at him. "He'll come, he said he would."

Dil frowned back. "Look Kimi, we may have to accept the fact that perhaps he doesn't _want_ to see us."

"Why wouldn't he not want to see us?" Kimi asked, turning her eyes towards her coffee mug.

Dil looked up, leaning back on the counter. "Maybe he wants to protect us… he said that's why he didn't want you knowing where he lived and whatnot."

"Maybe…" Kimi sighed, "Come on, lets get out stuff together and-"

She was cut off by a very final, very attention crabbing knock at the door of the café. The two adults jumped and there eyes darted towards the door.

There he stood. Dressed completely in black, wearing a black hoody with long black sleeves and gloves as well as black pants and the same boots Kimi had last seen him in. However, the most alarming thing was that almost all of his hair had gone, only two large strands stuck out at the front, like a pair of odd bunny ears.

Kimi and Dil looked at him, and Chuckie stood perfectly still looking back, his eyes travelling from Kimi to Dil, then back again.

Slowly Kimi got off her stool and walked, somewhat quietly over to the door. She was afraid, but now, somewhat less so. Maybe it was because all the tension was now broken, he was here, finally. Maybe it was because in her mind, she'd been building up this image of this loud horrible psychopath armed with knives and always ready to kill, yet here he was simply standing quietly, even a small smile playing on his lips.

She unlocked the door, and opened it wide. Now there was nothing but air between the two step-siblings.

"Carpe noctem," Chuckie greeted, his smile growing wider.

"Seize the night to you too." Kimi answered, surprised at the easy way that had come from her mouth.

Dil said nothing; he just stared at the man he'd thought dead for so long. Chuckie seemed like a shadow of how he'd remembered him. Like there was almost nothing left but a barely working skeleton that looked like it would fall apart at any moment. There was an odd air about him, a darkness, a quiet intelligence and a strange sorrow.

Kimi cocked her head slightly. "What happened to your hair?"

Chuckie raised a hand to his head, feeling the cut-short hair. "I'm not sure… I think I might have sleep-shaved it or something."

"I thought you didn't sleep?" Kimi asked as they walked into the middle of the room.

The murderer shrugged. "I try not to, but there's only so long a person can go without sleep."

Chuckie looked at Dil, making Dil freeze on the spot. The killer's eyes narrowed as his mind worked to connect the face to his memories.

"You've changed." Chuckie's words echoed around the dark room.

"So have you." Dil answered back, surprised at his own anger. This man who stood before him had killed his friends, his brother, and had almost drove him to suicide in grief. "I hate you." Dil words seemed to hit Chuckie harder than he thought they would.

Chuckie bowed his head, "I know. I hate me too."

Dil growled and stood from his chair. "You killed my brother." Chuckie said nothing and hugged his arms around him, making his form seem even thinner then it already was. Dil's hands curled into fists. "You… bastard."

Chuckie turned and walked towards a table, sitting down in a spare chair heavily, not making eye contact with anyone. There was a moment of silence before he finally spoke. "I have no idea how to respond to you, I cannot even imagine what it feels like to feel such loss, however, I know that should I die, neither of you would regret my death. And in a way I'm glad, I do not deserve, nor wish to be remembered." The words quietly shocked the other two, Chuckie was meant to be a psychopath, yet he wasn't living up to any of the expectations of one. He was regretful, quiet. He wasn't even armed.

Kimi walked over to Chuckie, sitting in the seat opposite. "Chuckie…" She sighed, "How do we even do this?"

"Maybe an interview would be good." The two looked up as Dil pulled something out of his backpack, a tape recorder.

Chuckie's eyes widened and Kimi gasped, then scowled. "Dil! What the hell are you doing?"

Dil smiled somewhat smugly. "I'm a paranormal journalist Kimi, and this is a once in a lifetime opportunity."

Chuckie frowned. "You have changed; you never used to be like this."

Dil stopped, his face falling, than he growled. "Yea, well having your friends and brother torn from you will do that to a person."

Kimi went to shout at Dil, but Chuckie raised a hand, stopping her. "It's alright, if I can somehow be of use to you then I will. But," as he turned back to Dil a slightly wicked grin appeared on his face, "I expect my questions to be answered in turn, agreed?"

Dil felt a slow cold shiver run down his spine, but he nodded and walked over to sit across from Chuckie, placing the recorder down in the table and hitting the record button. He quickly spoke his name, the date and the time out loud before stopping it and rewinding, playing his message back and testing to see if it worked. After he was happy he set it to record again and locked his eyes onto Chuckie. "Alright then. Tell us your name and go from there."

Kimi glared at Dil's almost aggressive tone of voice, but said nothing.

Chuckie leaned back, placing an arm over his seat. "I'm Chuckie Finster, although I only learned the 'Finster' part three days ago. I am… a waste-lock," he finished with a shrug.

Dil leaned forward, eager to get his interview. "So you have a demon?"

Chuckie laughed darkly. "More like a demon has me. It lives behind a bunch of mirrors in one of the rooms in my house, right down at the bottom of my chambers."

"Chambers?" Dil asked, turning his head slightly, but never taking his eyes from Chuckie.

"Chambers," Chuckie nodded, "my torture chambers, built underneath my house."

Kimi and Dil both looked shocked as Chuckie continued as if his life was nothing unusual. "I need to take people, preferably people who don't deserve to live, into my house so I can extract their blood and throw in onto the mirror, aka the demon, so it doesn't escape and destroy reality." He stretched, "It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it I guess."

"Erm, well," Dil stammered before quickly collecting himself, "Do you have an acolyte?"

Chuckie raised an eyebrow. "A what?"

"An evil spirit," Dil pressed, "Something that works for the mirror-demon to-"

"Yes." Chuckie answered, a shadow being cast over his face and a terrible hate entering his eyes. The two opposite suddenly felt very uncomfortable being in his presence. The maniac linked his hands together over his mouth and spoke in a low, dangerous, almost murderous way. "Gogol," the two shivered at the way Chuckie pronounced the name, "He was the one that first told me what I was, who I was going to become. But I don't know when he did this or what I was like before I 'signed up' as he puts it."

Dil gulped. "Well, what does he look like?"

However, even though Chuckie opened his mouth to speak, it was Kimi who answered. "It's a cat." The other two looked at her, a shared surprised look on their face, she was staring into space, totally emotionless as she spoke, "A small black cat toy, with red eyes."

The two red-heads looked to each other in shock, then back to Kimi. Dil slowly placed a hand on her arm. "Kimi…. Are you ok?"

Kimi looked down. "I'm sorry Chuckie…"

Chuckie's eyes shifted to look around before unlinking his hands and asking. "Why?"

She sniffed. "I bought you that cat… I'm sorry…" She couldn't bring herself to tell him she was still terrified by it whenever she slept, she was afraid if how Chuckie would react.

Chuckie, for a fleeting moment, felt angry at her. She'd been the one to had Gogol over to him, to curse his life with the demon-cat. However, after a moments thought he shook his head, "No, you didn't do anything. Gogol only possessed the toy; it could have been anything else. Now," Chuckie quickly decided to chance the subject, "Tell me about me."

Dil leaned back in his chair, switching the recorder off. "Where do you want to begin?"

"At the beginning," Chuckie smiled.

The three then talked, and talked, and talked. The air of fear dampened, never dropping, as it could never drop while in the presence of a murderer, but it dampened as the three began to become more relaxed. They talked of older, happier times. Sometimes Chuckie remembered, mostly the older memories, and sometimes he didn't, but either way he seemed fascinated by how he used to be.

How could he have been so fearful? So scared of almost everything? Now he feared nothing, it was such an odd, but almost fitting change to his character.

Sudden a watched beeped, bringing the three's attention to the watch on Dil's wrist. He went to switch it off, but as he did, his eyes widened. "Whoa, it's almost five o'clock!"

Kimi chuckled. "Well, we did get a bit carried away."

Chuckie nodded. "It was nice… remembering," he sighed and leant back, looking up, "I feel so much better about things now, now I know who I was… Maybe things might be better from now on…"

Kimi looked down onto the table. "Look, Chuckie, there's something you should know."

Her step brother looked back down; a worried expression crossed his face. "What?"

"It's about your dad…" Kimi gulped, she was hoping he'd take this well, "He's… dying."

"WHAT!?" Chuckie leapt up from his chair as Kimi and Dil jumped in their chairs. "What the hell? Why!?"

Kimi slowly stood up. "He… He had a heart attack, but he's not getting better. Something to do with his arteries…"

"I'm sorry Chuck," Dil added with a sad honesty in his voice.

Chuckie remained standing, staring onto the floor. "I… I… I want to go see him. Where he is?"

Kimi walked around to talk to him properly. She would have normally given him a hug, but Chuckie seemed to shy away from normal human contact, so she kept her distance. "I'm not sure if that's a good idea."

Chuckie snapped his eyes to her, his gaze one of fury. "My dad's dying and you think I shouldn't go to see him?!" He growled as if to say more, but then paused and looked away, closing his eyes and holding himself. "Damn… I'm sorry. I know it'd be a bad idea… but he's still my father. And if he's dying then this might be the last time…"

"I know," Kimi answered slowly. She sighed. "I don't know what to do."

Chuckie laughed quietly. "Don't worry about sneaking me in. I can get into anywhere, one of the little perks about being a waste-lock."

Dil nodded, "It's true, you could get in easy. But the question is: do you think your father could even handle seeing you?"

"What do you mean?" Chuckie couldn't hold back some of the anger in his voice, "He's my dad, of course he'd want to see me."

"Yes," Dil quickly reasoned, not wanted to push Chuckie's anger, "But like Kimi said, he has a weak heart… You'd be taking a risk…"

Chuckie looked down, his hands curled into tight fists. Dil was right, if he showed up he could inevitably cause his fathers death, but on the other hand, this could be his last ever chance to talk with the man. The decision was so hard, maybe even the hardest he'd ever made.

One last talk with possible murderer, or to be forever forgotten by his father and to let him die in peace; never knowing his son wanted to hug him one last time, to assure him that he was alive but also, to tell him of what he'd become, a mass murdering psychopath, a slave to a demon. Chuckie bit hard onto his lip. He doubted a man with a heart problem on his death bed could handle something like that.

Chuckie turned and began walking towards the door. "I'll… I have to think about this."

Kimi and Dil said nothing and instead just watched the killer walk out of the shop to be enveloped by the darkness outside.

Dil sighed as Chuckie vanished from view. "That poor guy… damn," He shook his head and looked down, "You almost feel sorry for him."

"Almost?" Kimi questioned, narrowing her gaze at her friend.

Dil turned and went to put his recorder back in his bag. "Almost, he _is_ still a murderer you know."

"Yea…" Kimi looked back to the door. "But he's… different. He's bad person, but he's got a good soul."

"That doesn't excuse his actions." Dil harshly replied. "He's a murderer Kimi. It doesn't matter how nice he may be, how sorry he tells you he is, even if he's your step-brother or not, he's a murderer." He walked towards the door, pausing before he went out, his hand just resting on the window-glass. Without looking at Kimi he slowly said, "Murderers are murderers, and you can't wish that away." He then pushed the door open and left.

Kimi stood, her eyes glazed with tears, but they had yet to fall down her face.

'_You weakling,'_ That inner Kimi spoke again. _'Unable to help Chuckie or your farther and now even Dil is starting to hate you.'_

She scowled. _'That's not true.'_

'_Oh?'_ It scowled, _'And he didn't leave here in a bad mood with you because you seem to be unable to grasp the fact that Chuckie is lost forever.'_

Kimi moved to get her stuff and leave, she needed sleep, desperately. She hadn't slept in two days. She scowled as she collected her things. _'Look, just shut up alright? Dil doesn't hate me, Chuckie can be helped, everything's going to be ok.'_

'_Yea, you just keep deluding yourself, moron.'_ Kimi's face twitched in hurt at the insult. She could suddenly feel the effects of a headache coming on and she ran her hand through her hair as she exited the café, locking it behind her.

It was strange. She would have continued her internal argument, but she felt as if she would get no answer, almost as if whatever it was that was talking back had left…

As she got into her car she shook her head. "Why does life hate me?"

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WOO! Ok, the reason this took longer then expected to be posted was because 1: I got distracted a lot and 2: I despised the ending. I still do, but believe me, it's 100 better then the old ending.

So, as always, R&R my reader friends!


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